


Wolf's Head

by MrProphet



Series: Aesirhaettir [3]
Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-10-23 11:40:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10718661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrProphet/pseuds/MrProphet
Summary: The Western settlement of the Greenland colony almost certainly died out of starvation with the onset of the little Ice Age. Given greater contact with the Inuit, they might have learned enough of their skills to survive – the Vikings were pretty good at that – but they didn’t, so they all went home to the Eastern settlement or just died.A note on weapons: SG-5’s weapons are the Heckler & Koch PSG1 anti-sniper rifle, a semi-automatic rifle, which is supposed to be really good, but which was picked mostly for having ‘SG1’ in its name; the M249 SAW (Squad Automatic Weapon), a light machine gun manufactured by Belgium’s Fabrique Nationale, similar if not identical to the weapon used by Kawalsky when covering the Gate in Children of the Gods; and the M79 grenade launcher, the shotgun-style weapon used by Arnie in Terminator 2. As since Season 4, the standard weapon of the SGC’s offworld teams is the FN P90 PDW (Personal Defence Weapon).





	Wolf's Head

_Tuesday_

Sam and Teal’c started somewhat at their arrival on board the Asgard mothership.

"Wow," Sam said. "You know, after Gate travel, I always forget how seamless that is."

"I think it’s a distance thing," Jack replied. "We sure as hell felt it when that tomb threw us halfway across the galaxy."

"Well, further than that, Colonel," Sam reminded him. "Loki’s prison was in the galaxy Ida. Aside from you and I, no-one in the SGC has travelled anything like that far, even by Gate."

"In fact," Thor told them. "At the current configuration of galaxies, Loki’s prison is considerably further from your Earth than Othala. We took great pains to put him in as isolated a location as possible. Sadly, with our technology, there are few places that are truly inaccessible."

"Couldn’t you find _one_?" Jack challenged.

"We found one," Thor said.

"And? Why didn’t you put him there?"

"Because it was inaccessible to our technology," Thor explained.

"So," Jack asked the Asgard, changing the subject while wondering how he kept walking into these things. "Nice to see they gave you a new ship, even after you crashed the old one?"

"They did," Thor replied. "However, this is not the _Biliskner_. My vessel will be leading the hunt for the mothership which retrieved Loki after you disabled the security systems on his place of confinement. Therefore, Major Carter and myself will travel on this vessel to retrieve Jormungandr, once we have delivered you to the SGC."

"Okay," Jack said. "So tell us about Fenrir. What…?" He stopped, distracted. "You okay there?"

"Eep," Mary Lasuip managed.

"I knew this was a bad idea," Jack muttered, but a moment later he was distracted from Mary’s plight.

"Hey, Jack!" A woman called out.

Jack turned, and saw a stunning young blonde coming towards him, with the kind of smile on her face that stunning young blondes usually reserved for Daniel Jackson. "Hnoss?" He asked.

The woman looked Jack over for a moment, then they caught each other in a friendly hug.

"Welcome aboard the _Stupid Idea_ ," Hnoss said.

 

"This thing is even bigger than the _Sesrumnir_ ," Sam noted, as Hnoss conducted the humans to the conference chamber of the _Stupid Idea_. Thor had gone ahead to pay his respects to Freyja, Hnoss’ Asgard foster-mother.

"She’s a dedicated carrier," Hnoss explained. "And humans just need more space than Asgard. _Sesrumnir_ was adapted to house the recreation facilities to keep a large group of warriors entertained and motivated; this vessel was built with that in mind. Much of her design was based on studies of Earth engineering, to make a human crew feel more at home."

"Hence the windowed walkway overlooking the ninja training rooms?" Jack asked, looking down to where a group of humans practised martial arts. In a firing range on the other side of the gallery, more humans trained with some form of energy weapon. "You know I love the Asgard; but they really need to learn the difference between documentaries and James Bond movies."

Hnoss smiled. "They know the difference, Jack," she assured him. "But humans don’t. Studies by the Asgard have shown that humans operate more favourably under conditions which conform to a certain aesthetic."

"Meaning?" Jack asked.

Sam grinned. "Meaning we don’t care so much if it works; so long as its stylish."

Hnoss grinned back. "Exactly."

 

"Welcome aboard," an Asgard said, as they entered the conference room. Given what he had just learned of the _Stupid Idea_ ’s design principles, it came as little surprise to Teal’c that the room was dominated by a circular table and a giant viewing screen. Two Asgard sat at the head of the table; Teal’c recognised one of them as Thor – although he could not for certain have said _how_ he recognised him. The other – the one who had spoken – he assumed to be Freyja, but having only met her once, he could not be certain.

"It is good to see you again, Jack," Freyja – if she had met Colonel O’Neill before then she almost certainly was Freyja – continued. "And your companions." She turned her attention to Mary, who had much about her of the startled rabbit. "Welcome, my dear," she said. "Come; sit by my side. You are as safe here as anywhere in this galaxy. All of you; be seated, please, and let us begin. We have little time to spare."

As they sat, Mary warily taking her place beside the Asgard, Freyja leaned over to whisper some words of encouragement to the young scholar. Teal’c was somewhat surprised, having never seen such concern for another creature’s comfort from an Asgard before. Not that Thor was rude or unkind, but like all Asgard, he seemed ill-acquainted with emotion. As fear and discomfort did not bother the Asgard, so he did not understand how they bothered other life-forms.

"So," Jack said. "Fenrir."

Thor nodded, fractionally. "Fenrir was the younger of the Harcesis children whom Angrboda bore to Loki. As I told you earlier, we Asgard for a long time believed that he would put the lie to our fears about the atavism inherent in the Goa’uld’s genetic memory."

Jack raised his hand. "Huh?"

"We thought that he might not be evil," Freyja explained.

"It’s like a whole race of Carters," Jack said, despairingly. "And when you say ‘we’, don’t you mean ‘they’?"

"No," Freyja answered. "Even I hoped that Fenrir might be different. He showed no signs of the characteristic Goa’uld aggression and callousness."

"Unfortunately," Thor said. "We were deceived, and proven wrong in the most terrible way. Some three-hundred years after his father was imprisoned, Fenrir aided his sister in battle against a System Lord named Kepher; the last time we had any knowledge of her whereabouts. Hel staged an assault on her own home as a justification for a retributive attack on Kepher’s palace, in which Fenrir led her troops."

"Since when is making war on the Goa’uld a bad thing?" Jack asked.

"Kepher’s palace was razed to the ground," Thor went on. "He was slain, and his home burned to the ground with all of his Jaffa and his servants inside." Jack paled, his soldier’s soul shocked by the thought of such wanton slaughter. "Afterwards, Fenrir travelled to a planet known as Keruch, and wiped out the population. Keruch’s only settlement was a small colony, of two hundred and thirty-seven human inhabitants, but Fenrir killed them all."

"Did the Asgard not note that he was raising an army?" Teal’c asked.

"He had no army," Freyja replied.

Jack, Sam and Teal’c made no response. Jack and Sam were horrified by the implication of this statement, and even the normally unflappable Teal’c was disturbed.

"Did he take some of his sister’s Jaffa to Keruch?" Jack asked Thor.

"He went alone," the Asgard replied.

"Some kind of chemical weapon?" Sam suggested.

Freyja shook her head.

"Good God."

After a moment, Thor continued with his account, giving little regard to the humans’ discomfort. Teal’c noted, however, that Freyja was calming the frightened Mary.

"An Asgard named Tyr found Fenrir," Thor said. "He tracked the Wolf for more than a millennia before he caught up with him. He had the good fortune to find the Wolf insensible with drink, and before he could recover, Tyr was able to bind him in a device called a Gleipnir; a collar designed to prevent travel through a wormhole. He was taken to Jelling, where no Goa’uld mothership could reach him, and the device was activated."

"How does the Gleipnir prevent wormhole travel?" Sam asked.

"The collar generates a subspace field," Thor explained. "Which is harmless to organic life, but is powerful enough to interfere with the formation of any subspace event."

"So the event horizon won’t form so long as he is anywhere near the Gate?"

Thor nodded. "That is correct, Major Carter. It only has a range of about five metres, but the Gleipnir will also collapse an active wormhole, so that is plenty. Also, an Asgard transport beam would be unable to lock onto him,."

"That’s great," Jack said. "But tell me more about the man himself. Do we even expect to find him after all this time? I mean, you didn’t give him a sarcophagus, did you?"

"To the best of our knowledge, Fenrir has never used, and will never need to use a sarcophagus," Thor explained. "His body contains a form of nanocyte…"

"I hate those things," Jack opined.

"…designed to repair damage to his body. In order to combat the degenerative effects of old age, these nanocytes must periodically replace much of Fenrir’s body tissue. To do this, he must enter a regenerative trance, lasting seven days, after first consuming a considerable quantity of nutrients, in particular proteins and fatty acids."

"And these nanocytes," Jack hazarded. "They’d also make him tough to kill?"

"That is correct," Thor agreed. "Fenrir is also physically powerful, and is – or at least was – a most charismatic individual."

Jack nodded. "Big. Charming. Crazy. Got it. Anything else?"

"It has been a long time since the Asgard had any contact with him," Thor admitted. "We know little of his current status."

"What are our chances of successfully capturing this man, if he can destroy an entire settlement single-handed?" Teal’c asked.

"He was sent through the Gate without advanced weapons," Freyja assured him. "And the inhabitants of Keruch had neither your weaponry nor your level of training."

"Also," Thor added. "Remember that your objective is the stone. If you can locate Fenrir’s lair and gain possession of the runestone without confrontation, so much the better."

Jack nodded. "Okay then. Put us down, and let’s get on with it."

*

Jack and Teal’c marched side-by-side towards General Hammond’s office with a determined stride. They were men with a mission, who would not falter in their purpose, nor be distracted by…

"What happens in there?" Mary asked.

"Nothing that concerns you," Jack said, for the fifteenth time. "If you even peek through the door we have to gouge your eyes out."

"Sorry," Mary replied, contrite. "I’m just…blown away by it all."

General Hammond was sitting at his desk as they entered. He was evidently trying to catch up on the paperwork he let slide yesterday, when Jack and Daniel were both missing.

"Morning, General," Jack said, brightly.

"Good Morning, Colonel O’Neill; good to see you back from your adventure in one piece. Teal’c," he added, acknowledging the Jaffa’s presence with a nod.

"Just want to thank you for giving us your blessing on all this," Jack added, sincerely. A lot of COs  would have insisted on a full report before letting SG-6 stay at the dig site with Daniel and Jack and Teal’c take a combat team to the far side of the Galaxy; let alone allow Sam go off on another merry jaunt with the Asgard.

"If I’ve learned one thing in this posting, it’s to trust my people," Hammond replied. "And speaking of my people, Colonel; I can’t help noticing that your friend here is not one of them."

"Hi," Mary said. "I’m Mary Lasuip, and…"

Jack held up a cautioning hand as Hammond turned to him with a raised eyebrow. "She overheard us talking at the dig site," he explained. "She wants to help us look for her missing friend, and this was the only way to shut her up." Ignoring the young woman’s scowl, he continued: "Can we lock her in the brig until we get back or something?"

"What!" Mary exploded. "You can’t do that!"

Hammond frowned. "Colonel O’Neill," he said. "You’re asking me to confine a foreign national, who you brought openly into my base, to the brig? And then what?"

"Well…"

"We can’t keep her here indefinitely, and we can’t keep her from talking once she leaves," Hammond continued, darkly. "I’m afraid you’ve left me with only one alternative, Colonel."

"Eep," Mary squeaked, her eyes going wide with fear.

"Miss Lasuip," Hammond said. "I’m assigning you to SG-1 as an archaeological consultant. You’ll have to sign a non-disclosure agreement and a standard consultancy contract with the USAF, which means if you tell anyone about what you saw, we’ll deny all knowledge, and then sue you for more money than you’ll ever earn. You’ll accompany Colonel O’Neill to Jelling in your new capacity."

"What?" Jack asked.

"You brought her here, Colonel. She’s your problem, and I intend for her to stay that way."

Mary gulped. "You mean…you’re not going to kill me?"

Hammond smiled, kindly. "No, Miss Lasuip. I am not going to kill you. Although I’m once again reviewing that option for Colonel O’Neill."

"He does that quite frequently," Teal’c confided.

"Thank you, Sir," Mary said.

Hammond nodded, then turned back to Jack. "I’ve assigned SG-5 to the mission as backup," he said. "Do you think you’ll need more?"

"From what we’ve heard of this Fenrir character," Jack said. "We might…Do we have tanks yet?"

"Having a little trouble getting tanks to fit through the Stargate, Colonel."

"How about those MIT nano-tech exosuits?"

"Still in the theoretical phase, I’m afraid."

"Then no, Sir," Jack said. "I don’t think direct confrontation is the way forward, so I’d rather have small and sneaky than go in like Gangbusters. That’s just one of the many reasons I’d rather Miss Lasuip stay here."

"Hey! I’m small," Mary insisted. "And I can be sneaky."

"With all due respect…" Jack began.

"I’ve lived with my grandfather’s people most of my life," Mary told him, hotly. "I have a dozen aunts, uncles and cousins devoted to keeping the traditional skills of the Mik’maqk alive. And I don’t mean living in the past, not wearing any buttons; I mean teaching and learning the old ways so that they don’t die out. I know woodcraft," she told Jack. "I can get within ten yards of a deer without it knowing; I can shoot a bow and a rifle, and I mean hunting, not target-shooting. I won’t be a burden, Colonel."

"It’s your call, Sir," Jack told Hammond.

"Yes it is," Hammond agreed. "Would you give us a moment, Colonel; Teal’c?"

 

Jack and Teal’c stood outside the General’s office, waiting.

"You were very quiet in there," Jack commented. "I mean, quieter than usual."

"I did not feel that I had anything to add to the discussion," Teal’c replied. "I am myself in two minds about allowing Mary Lasuip to accompany us."

"How so?"

"Like you, I am concerned by her lack of experience and training, but on the other hand I believe that her knowledge of the culture which Fenrir was a part of may be valuable, and that it would be wrong to ask her to stay behind when her friend is in danger."

"Sometimes you can be a very practical man, Teal’c," Jack noted. "This is not one of those times."

"I believe that some matters should not be governed by practicality," Teal’c replied. "Matters such as loyalty, love and honour lose all meaning if reduced to logistical considerations. If we allowed ourselves to do so, then we would be barely human."

Jack was a little taken aback. "Well, sure," he agreed. "I just don’t want her to get killed."

The General’s door opened, and Hammond emerged with Mary in tow.

"Colonel O’Neill," Hammond said. "I’m having a UAV prepped to go through the Stargate on a standard recon flight. You’ll brief SG-5 at thirteen-hundred and – unless the UAV shows a reason not to – go through the Gate to PX8-666 at fourteen-thirty hours."

"Sir," Jack acknowledged, making it half a question with a nod towards Mary.

"Teal’c," Hammond said in answer. "Take Miss Lasuip to see the QM and get her kitted out. She goes through."

*

"Chevron seven locked," Sergeant Davis announced.

The Stargate whooshed open, and a moment later the UAV’s booster rocket propelled it through the wormhole.

"Holy God in Heaven!" Mary exclaimed. She was dressed in unmarked field fatigues, with an SGC patch on her sleeve, but she still looked monumentally out of place. Even Daniel blended into the Cheyenne Mountain complex; or was it just that Jack was used to Daniel?

"UAV is away and operating normally," Davis reported. "We’re receiving the feed, loud and clear, Sirs." Jack and Teal’c gathered around the monitor with General Hammond.

"Colonel O’Neill," Teal’c said. "Did not Thor say that Fenrir was a bloodthirsty killer?"

"He did," Jack agreed. "Your point being."

"Whatever the other advantages of this planet, does it not seem strange to you that the Asgard would send such a being to a populated world?"

Hammond frowned. "Populated…Well I’ll be. Sergeant Davis; have the UAV sweep around to the south."

 

SG-5 stood to attention as General Hammond entered with the others. Teal’c led Mary to a seat, and Jack stood beside the General as the marines were given permission to sit.

As Hammond laid out the basics of the mission, O’Neill surveyed his backup. The newly promoted Major Steven Parker he knew somewhat from past missions with SG-3, but the rest were new to him. He knew that they all had Marine Recon pedigrees however, so whatever else they knew how to handle themselves in a fight, and more importantly how to avoid getting into one in the first place. Unlike the contact, exploration and generalist teams, the SGC’s combat units contained few young, graduate officers, instead selecting veterans. Lieutenant Maybury Wayne, Master Sergeant Anne Fowler – to the best of Jack’s knowledge, the first woman to serve in an offworld Marine Combat team – and Sergeant Thomas Thomas were no exception to the rule.

"Colonel O’Neill will brief you on the details," Hammond concluded.

"Thank you, Sir," Jack said, taking up the hand control for the briefing room projector. "What we know is that the hostile is on this planet, he is big, fast and dangerous, but not armed with any advanced weaponry. Take it from me however that an enemy with a bow is not to be dismissed just because you have a submachine-gun. A P90 won’t stop an arrow – unless you are incredibly lucky – and nor will kevlar. This enemy also knows the terrain, while we do not."

A chorus of groans met this assessment.

"But it’s not all bad news," Jack assured them. "There’s only one of him, and it’s a big forest, and we don’t actually have to bring him down. Also, it’s temperate, so we won’t be slogging through jungle or anything.

"What we are looking for, looks something like this," he added, bringing up an image of an Asgard runestone. "Our civilian consultant, Miss Mary Lasuip, will now take you through some of the pertinent features of the landscape."

"Hmm?" Mary asked.

"You’re up," Jack told her.

"Oh. Right. Thanks," Mary said, distractedly, scrambling to her feet. "Yes," she went on, fiddling with the controls until the UAV video began to play on the screen. "This is the planet Jelling, which is also the name of a Danish town which was capital of the kingdom under Harold Bluetooth, and gave its name to a Scandinavian artistic style represented by the inscriptions on a silver cup found in the grave of Harold’s father, Gorm the Old…"

"Mary!" Jack called, gently. "Focus." He could sense the restlessness of the Marines, and knew that – like Daniel – Mary was likely oblivious to them. The idea that anyone could _not_ be interested in Gorm the Old had probably never occurred to her.

"Right; sorry. So as you can see, primarily coniferous forests, with some scattered broadleaves. The tree cover is heavy near to the Stargate; no roads or driven tracks, although there are signs of a few regularly travelled game trails, especially…" She paused the playback. "These here," she indicated five vague lines radiating from the clearing which housed the Gate.

Mary started the tape again. "Each of these lines leads in the direction of a village, the largest of which the plane-thing will fly over in a minute. Yes; there it is. This settlement is approximately ten miles from the Stargate. Note the defensive palisade, and the smaller fences around these outlying farm buildings. There are also these towers, which look like watch posts, commanding a clear view to the treeline. Plainly these are people with enemies: Either other villages or a seven-foot tall guy with an alien genetic memory and a chip on his shoulder. Also the stave church," she added, indicating an imposing building built of interlocking beams. "Suggesting a post-Christian culture, as Aesir-worshipping communities tended not to have purpose-built places of worship. Instead they’d use the village elder’s barn or cattle shed, and clean up when they were…"

There was a muttering from the table, and Mary looked up, distracted. "Was there a question?" She asked.

"Just wondering if you were going to get to the point at any stage?" Thomas assured her, harshly. Mary looked hurt.

"Congratulations, Thomas," Jack said, angrily. "You’ve just won yourself bodyguard duty. You’ll be looking out for Miss Lasuip for the duration of the mission."

"Ah, man."

"No arguments. Now get geared up and prepped," Jack told SG-5. "We go in one hour."

_*_

Jack’s team emerged from the Gate into the crisp, cool air of the Jelling afternoon. The sun shone pleasantly, and the lush, green landscape made a change from stone ruins or baking desert. Jack might have been tempted to relax, if not for the fact that his team were bringing such a substantial arsenal into this placid realm. As a combat unit, SG-5 were considerably more tooled-up than SG-1 would have been. In addition to the P90s issued as standard to all SG teams, Fowler wore a PSG1 sniper rifle slung on her back, Wayne was toting an M249 SAW and Thomas had an M79 grenade launcher. Of the seven travellers, only Mary was unarmed, Jack not feeling comfortable issuing a weapon to a civilian, however capable.

"Okay," Jack ordered. "Fan out and pick up the central trail."

"Trail my ass," Thomas grumbled. "Just seeing things if you ask me."

"Well," Jack replied. "If you think real hard, I think you’ll find no-one did." He beckoned Mary away from the main group. "You sure about this?" He asked. "Last chance to go back."

Mary shook her head. "Don’t worry, Colonel. I won’t screw things up for you."

"It’s you I’m worried about," Jack  admitted. "No-one’s going to think badly of you if you go. Well," he admitted. "Thomas will, but he’s a jerk anyway."

"And _I_ will," Mary said. "I’m staying."

Jack nodded impressed, in spite of himself by her conviction. "Okay," he said. "Stick close to Thomas – unpleasant as that may be for you – and try not to get lost."

Mary stuck her tongue out at him.

"Colonel!" Fowler called out.

"Look, Thomas!" Wayne added. "Your ass! No; my mistake; it’s a trail."

"So this would be that camaraderie ex-soldiers rave about?" Mary asked.

"I’m Air Force; they’re Marines," Jack replied. "I don’t get them either." He turned to the squad, and switched into officer mode. "Let’s move out! Fowler, point; Teal’c following. Wayne, watch our six; the rest of you with me. Everyone stay alert, and once we’re out of the open I want it kept quiet. Handsignals only. Let’s go!"

As the squad moved off, Jack was watching Mary closely, and to her credit – and his mild astonishment – she seemed to have been telling the truth about her woodsy abilities. She moved carefully and quietly, not looking at all the awkward outsider she had been at the SGC.

They moved slowly, visibility being extremely limited by the thickness of the tree cover in all directions except along the trail. Jack had rarely seen anything like it, and he had been around. The cool air was filled with the scent of pine, and the sound of birdsong. Occasionally Fowler would stop, holding up a hand in warning, only for a deer or a rabbit to scamper nervously across the track in front of them.

Mary touched Jack on the arm to get his attention. "Jack," she whispered. "Have you noticed? The track?"

Jack nodded. "Heavy trampling," he replied. "Looks almost like a platoon tramped through in parade order, maybe six weeks ago."

"I thought that there must be regular traffic up and down to the Gate, but it looks as though there’s just this periodic tramping. It’s affected the tree growth," she added. "So it’s been happening for a long time. And look…"

Jack nodded again as she pointed out where an overhanging branch that had been torn away from its tree. The stump was moss-covered, but still showed signs of blackening, as though blasted by fire or lightning…or a staff weapon.

Up ahead, Fowler held up her hand again, and gestured that she had heard a noise in the undergrowth to the right of the path. It was probably just another deer, but the Marines raised their weapons anyway. Fowler motioned to Teal’c, and the Jaffa moved up on silent feet, circling slightly to his right.

Then, suddenly, Teal’c sprang to his left, letting his staff weapon fall to the ground and disappearing into the scrub. There was the sound of struggle, followed by a high-pitched, and definitely human scream. Jack moved forward, signalling Parker and Wayne to watch their backs while he and the two sergeants covered the thrashing bush.

The scream was muffled, and after a moment, Teal’c emerged, holding a young girl – perhaps twelve or thirteen years old, blonde with pale grey eyes – in a firm, but entirely gentle grip. The girl struggled, and kicked back at Teal’c shins, and he weathered it stoically. When she saw Teal’c’s companions she ceased her struggles, trembling like a frightened deer.

"It’s okay," Jack promised, in his gentlest tones. "We won’t hurt you. Teal’c; let her go."

Teal’c released the girl, who appeared to weigh up her options before deciding not to make a run for it. Instead, she tipped back her head, and screamed: "Fenrir!"

"No," Jack told her, holding out his hands in a gesture of peace. "We’re not Fenrir. We’re…"

The girl’s scream ended, and she burst into a stream of babbling invective, which reminded Jack of nothing so much as the bitter tirade to which Loki had subjected his poor consort, Sigyn, for more than two millennia.

Mary stepped past Jack and knelt in front of the girl, speaking softly to her in her own language. Gradually the girl grew quiet, and Mary looked back at Jack. "And you thought I wouldn’t be any help," she chided. She spoke to the girl again, and the child responded, angry and defiant, but no longer screaming.

"Anyone coming?" Jack asked the Marines.

"Not a sign," Parker replied.

"Okay then. Parker, Fowler; find us a place to set up camp. It’s starting to get dark, and I’d like to see what Mary can get out of this kid before we go any further."

 

"Her name is Roskva," Mary told Jack. She had been bonding with the girl over their field rations, neither appearing to think much more of military food than Daniel did. Jack had – reluctantly – refused permission for her to light a fire and try to catch some rabbits, fearing that an open fire would bring too much attention. "It means, ‘vigour’," she added. "Aptly enough. She seems to be quite a handful."

"You’re doing well with her," Jack acknowledged.

"Big family," Mary replied.

"What else has she been saying?"

"Aside from the personal abuse and slurs on all our parentage?"

Jack nodded. "Yeah; skip that stuff. I hear enough of it."

"She lives in the town of Tangrind – tooth gate– at the end of this path. Her mother sent her out to gather firewood, and she wandered toward the Chappa’ai; I don’t know that word," she admitted. "But the dialect is rather different from any I know."

"The Stargate," Teal’c told her, feeling a shiver run down his spine. "It is Goa’uld for Stargate; it means that they must have had some influence here at one time or another."

"Well, that’s bad then," Mary agreed. "But she says that now a council of elders rules the town, and that all important decisions are taken at the Thing."

"The Thing?"

"It’s a town meeting," Mary explained. "Where people meet to discuss business and settle grievances. Once a year there is an Allthing…

"Now you’re making this up."

Mary smiled, and continued as though he had not interrupted."…where people from all the towns and villages meet. She says that there is no one leader, but that her…again I’m not sure, but I think, her uncle is very important. But that could be hyperbole."

"Oh?" Jack asked.

"She says that her father and brothers are the strongest and bravest men in the land; that her mother wields a sword as well as any man; and that this uncle can uproot mighty trees with his bare hands."

"Her Daddy can beat up my Daddy?" Jack asked.

"Oh, her Mummy could beat up your Daddy," Mary assured him. "Apparently they’re going to kill us for hurting her, but I think really she’s as worried that they’ll be angry with her for wandering off. Anyway, when she came through the Gate, she believed that we were emissaries of the Fire Giants, and she was very afraid."

"Fire Giants?" Jack asked.

"The Surtur. She says that they live beneath the Earth, and their servants emerge from the Chappa’ai to pillage and steal. These servants – trolls, she calls them – are hideous, manlike creatures, and she mistook us for them."

"Hey!" Jack protested.

"They come when the moon is dark, strike down the townsfolk with staffs of cold flame, steal from their harvests and their herds and their flocks, and seize the youngest and the strongest of the folk. All that they take, they bear back to the Chappa’ai, as tribute to their masters."

"Jaffa," Teal’c said. "Come to claim tribute for the Goa’uld. On Cimmeria they were known as Ettin," he added. "Ask her if she knows the Fire Giants by that name."

Mary turned and spoke to Roskva, who replied with proud defiance and some scorn, but a little fear as well.

Mary listened and said: "She says that Ettin is the name the villagers of Jarnas – the Iron Hill – give to the Jotun; the Frost Giants. She doesn’t think much of the good people of Jarnas by all accounts" The girl carried on speaking, and Mary translated. "‘Only a fool would confuse Fire and Frost’, she says. ‘The Surtur take and kill, but the Jotun are worse. Their hearts are frozen, and they take those whom they desire, and freeze their heart also, so that they know only hate and hunger and jealousy’."

"That is an accurate description of the Goa’uld," Teal’c agreed.

"She also says that the Jotun have not set foot on this planet in centuries. The Surtur make this place their home and defend it jealously. She seems pretty happy to face the Surtur instead of the Jotun."

"She seems pretty well informed about a race not seen for centuries," Jack noted.

"Her mother is the storyteller of Tangrind," Mary explained. "As was her grandmother before. That makes them the nearest thing the village would have to historians."

Jack nodded, accepting this. "Sounds like these Fire Giants might be Thor’s aliens; although he said they live in the space between the planets, not inside them."

"But then the child would likely not know where the Stargate leads," Teal’c pointed out.

"What about Fenrir?" Jack asked Mary, drawing a fierce exclamation from Roskva.

"Apparently, he’ll kill us all," Mary said. "She seems rather happy about that idea."

"Do you think he’s set himself up as local god?" Jack asked Teal’c.

"It would seem unlikely if power still rests with the town councils," the Jaffa replied. "The Goa’uld have little use for delegated authority."

"Alright," Jack said at last. "Everyone get some rest. Teal’c, Thomas; first watch. Fowler and Parker second; Wayne and I will take third. Four hour shifts, and if the night turns out to last more than twelve hours around here, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it."

 

"You’re a soldier, right?" Thomas asked Teal’c.

"I am a warrior, yes," the Jaffa replied.

"How do you do your job with a civilian around the whole time?"

"Daniel Jackson is a valuable member of SG-1," Teal’c replied. "It would not be possible for me to do my job without him."

"But doesn’t he get in the way?"

"In his own way, Daniel Jackson too is a warrior. Moreover, he has learned well how to operate within a military unit, and we have learned how to work with him, as I have learned how to work with soldiers of the Tau’ri. He has, for example, learned not to distract me while I am standing watch in enemy territory," he added, ending the conversation.

They stood their watch; or rather, Teal’c stood it and Thomas sat.

"Time to wake…" Thomas began, as the end of the watch approached.

"Be silent!" Teal’c whispered. "Listen."

I don’t hear…"

Teal’c raised his staff weapon into a firing position and snapped it open, but did not fire. "They are familiar with staff weapons," Teal’c surmised.

"Who do?"

"Whoever is out there," Teal’c replied. "Wake the others."

Thomas did as he was told, shaking first Colonel O’Neill and then Major Parker awake.

Jack rose to stand at Teal’c’s shoulder. "Whadda you got?" He asked.

"At least one person, moving quietly. I barely heard them." Without warning, the Jaffa turned and fired, startling the remaining Marines from their sleep.

"Whassappnin!" Mary mumbled, dozily.

"Stand to!" Jack ordered. "Basic defence pattern; what cover you can." The Marines stumbled up, readying their weapons. Fowler got out her rifle and scanned the woods through it’s night-scope. "Anything?" Jack asked the woman.

"Nothing," Fowler replied. "I…Wait! Movement; eight o’clock."

Jack turned, but saw nothing. "Try to keep a bead on it, Fowler," he said. "Teal’c, swing left a ways, we’ll go and take a look. Carefully. Mary; stay put and watch the girl."

On cautious feet, Jack and Teal’c walked slowly in the direction which Fowler had indicated. Teal’c swung out to the left, Jack to the right, their weapons raised and readied. After about fifteen yards, Jack could make out the figure, crouched behind a bush some thirty yards further on. It was very still, trying not to be seen, and Jack motioned Teal’c further left, wanting the enemy to believe for as long as possible that he – or she – had been successful.

Very slowly, Jack drew his zat, and snapped on the safety of his P90, lowering the submachine gun to his side. With painstaking care, he crept closer, until he was less than ten feet from the figure, and fired. Electricity arced through the figure, but it did not fall.

Gripped with a sudden premonition, Jack leaped forward and dragged the cloak back, revealing that the figure behind the bush was none other than…another bush.

"Oh, hell!" Jack hissed.

 

It was not a sound that made Mary turn, so much as a feeling. Something ground in by her grandfather’s many lessons in woods lore that told her all was far from right. So it was that she saw the figure leap from the trees, and batter Wayne and Thomas cleanly to the floor; saw him knock Major Parker – no small man – almost twelve feet backwards; saw him rip the rifle from Fowler’s hands with sufficient force to send her sprawling to the ground.

Then he bounded over to where she stood, looked her in the eyes for a long, charged moment – his eyes were golden, she noticed, with some detached part of her mind – before he scooped Roskva into his arms and disappeared into the night.

On the forest floor, Fowler scooped up and raised her rifle.

"You’ll hit the girl!" Mary warned, as the weapon spoke.  Fowler shot her a dirty glance, but lowered the muzzle without firing again.

 

Jack and Teal’c returned to the camp to find Fowler glowering into the woods, while Mary stooped over Colonel Parker.

"What happened, Sergeant?" Jack demanded.

"Some…thing," she replied. "Came out of the woods. Took out the others and snatched the girl. I could have brought it…"

"Him," Mary corrected.

" _Him_ down," Fowler said, with hostility. "But she distracted me."

"You could have hit the child," Mary admonished.

" _He_ killed my friends," Fowler replied, unrepentant.

"He killed no-one," Mary assured her. "Just knocked them out. I can’t even see any serious wounds, although I’ve only a little first aid," she admitted.

"Why were you not knocked unconscious also?" Teal’c asked.

"I don’t know," Fowler admitted. "He just disarmed me, knocked me down, then ran on."

"Did you hit him?" Jack asked.

"I don’t know sir," Fowler replied. Mary immediately headed for the treeline.

"Mary, wait!" Jack called, as the woman vanished into the night.

"It’s alright," she assured him. "He’s gone, but I just…ah ha!" The archaeologist jogged back to the camp. "She hit one of them," she said, holding up her hand; there was blood on her fingers, and not her own.

"Which one?" Jack asked.

"I’m a quarter Mik'maqk who knows a little about tracking," Mary replied, with amused exasperation. "Not Tonto."

With a pained grunt, Thomas began to come around, and Wayne likewise. Parker remained out for several minutes more, long enough for his team-mates to worry and begin to get angry, but once it was obvious that he was alright, SG-5 were back to joshing each other about the ease with which their phantom attacker had incapacitated them.

After a while though, Major Parker came over to confer with Jack and Teal’c, and his attitude was all business. "We’re badly outgunned here," he told Jack. "And that’s with him unarmed. The man hit like a sledgehammer. I’ve never been punched like that before, and I’ve been on the wrong end of a Jaffa’s fist before now."

"Let’s go out on a limb and say that was Fenrir," Jack suggested. "Because God help us if that was just a friend of his."

"If that were Fenrir," Teal’c said. "Why would he not kill all of SG-5 when he had the chance?"

"And why not put Sergeant Fowler down?" Jack agreed. "Or so much as touch Mary. It doesn’t add up."

"Perhaps things are not as they appear," Teal’c suggested.

"Then how are things?" Parker asked.

"I am unsure," Teal’c replied. "I only know that a Goa’uld, however powerful, would not be likely to attack alone, nor to leave an injured enemy instead of making a kill or capture."

*

_Wednesday_

As the sky began to grow light, SG-5 gathered up their weapons, their wits, and the tattered shreds of their dignity – the first taking more time than the second, but far less than the last – and pressed on to the village. Jack had decided to seek shelter within the palisade, learn what he could about Fenrir, and then call for heavy backup when General Hammond opened the Gate to make contact in another fourteen hours.

As yesterday, they proceeded cautiously along the path, but today they were more alert – more paranoid – than before. No-one spoke until they were in sight of the palisade – a nine-foot mound of earth, topped by fifteen-to-twenty feet of wooden stake fencing – when Mary moved closer to Jack and whispered:

"You see where the ground’s been turned? As though to wipe out the tracks of whoever made this path. As though they want to pretend they never came here."

Jack nodded, distractedly, his attention taken up by two huge standing stones, cut with lines of runes, which formed the gate posts of Tangrind. "Can you read those inscriptions?" He asked.

"Sure; but not from here. At a guess, I’d say that’s the ‘tooth gate’ though."

As they cleared the treeline, a watch-tower loomed over the path, but far too high and too near to the forest’s edge to be of much use watching the road itself. "They’re watching the Gate," Jack realised. "Keeping lookout for the Fire Giants’ servants."

Jack led SG-5 up to the open gate. They were challenged, and Mary told the watchman who stood above the left-hand stone that they were travellers from the distant village of Hrossdal, a story she and Jack had worked out in advance. Jack did not know if there were villages so far afield that the people of Tangrind would not know of them, but from talking to Roskva, Mary felt that there was a good chance. Certainly, the guards at the gate showed no sign of suspicion, and permitted them to enter.

"Tandgnjost and Tandgrisner," Mary read from the stones. "Toothgnasher and Toothgrinder; the goats who drew the chariot of Thor."

"That is a good sign," Teal’c said. "Those names – like any pertaining to the Asgard – are outlawed by the Goa’uld."

Tangrind was a fair-sized settlement, with around two-dozen houses of varying sizes, in addition to a great, central longhouse and the stave church. When Jack asked, Mary estimated that each house would hold between two and five families, each with anything from five to twenty members. That made around a thousand inhabitants; more than some planets, including the luckless colony on Keruch. People pointed and stared at the strangely dressed newcomers, and many of their looks were hostile.

"Zat guns only, if this turns sour," Jack instructed. "Let’s try to fall back to the Gate without causing a massacre. Submachine guns strictly as a last resort."

"That looks like some of the elders," Mary said, gesturing to a small group standing at the door of the longhouse. There were two men and three women, and they looked to be about of an age with Jack.

"Okay," Jack said, bridling a little at the implication that he was old enough to be an elder. "Basic ‘we come in peace’, spiel; we’ll move onto specifics such as ‘sorry we lost your kid’ once we’ve broken the ice."

Mary nodded, and began speaking to the elders, when suddenly a small figure dashed from the longhouse, pointed in their direction, and began crying what sounded like obscenities in a shrill voice.

It was Roskva.

"Mary?" Jack asked.

"We’ve just been accused of kidnapping," Mary told them. The faces of the elders darkened considerably, and more people – men and women, all bearing spears or axes, and a few swords – began to emerge from the houses.

"Fall back," Jack ordered, and they started moving towards the gate.

"We’re surrounded," Parker reported.

"Great," Jack muttered. "Zats ready everyone, but I’m going to try something first." He raised his P90, and fired a short burst into the air. The sound was deafening in the crisp morning air, and the folk of Tangrind started in fear. "Now move back, slowly," Jack said. "Mary; tell them to let us through."

Mary spoke to the townsfolk, and a path cleared to the gate. SG-5 began moving again, and no one tried to stop them.

"Once we’re clear," Jack said, as they passed between the great stones. "We head back to the Stargate, double-time, and…"

Thomas gasped in alarm, and Jack turned, to see that the gateway was almost completely obstructed.

"Well," Jack said. "You’re a big boy, aren’t you."

Seven feet tall, and looking almost as wide across the shoulders, there could be little doubt that this was the Wolf; Fenrir. He was clean shaven, but with a long mane of blonde hair, heavy sideburns and beetle brows, and his eyes were gold. He was dressed in wolf furs, wool and leather, wore a huge knife at his belt, and looked about as pissed as anyone Jack had every seen.

He seemed to stand still before them for a long time, but even so, not one of them was able to react before he moved, striking Thomas with a dismissive backhand swipe that knocked him hard into the Tandgrisner gate-stone. A second blow put Parker down, even as Teal’c stepped forward, snapping his staff forward to strike the Wolf’s solar plexus.

Teal’c’s attack was quick and accurate, but Fenrir was quicker, stepping aside and grabbing the staff.

"Back!" Jack ordered. "Get some room. Fowler, watch the crowd; zat only," he reiterated.

The Master Sergeant blasted two approaching warriors, and the rest hung back as Wayne and Jack tried to get a bead on Fenrir. "Teal’c! Get out the way!" Jack called.

Fenrir swung the staff across, with the Jaffa still on the end of it. Teal’c was battered against first one stone, then the other, before finally releasing his weapon. Immediately, Fenrir spun the staff, cracking the butt into Wayne’s jaw. Jack tried for a shot, but then Teal’c was in the way again, grabbing Fenrir around the waist, and trying to tackle him to the ground. Fenrir stood firm, and drove his hands down onto Teal’c’s back, collapsing the Jaffa like a broken doll.

Again, Jack tried for the shot, but he was distracted by a cry from Fowler. Half-turning, he saw her disappearing under a crowd of other women. Mary scooped up the zat, and blasted two of the attackers from Fowler’s back before being dragged down herself. As he turned back to the Wolf, Jack felt the P90 torn from his grip, and saw Fenrir looming up, towering over him. Instead of striking however, Fenrir held out his hand, fingers spread, towards the townsfolk, and spoke in a commanding voice.

Never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Jack drove a left jab into Fenrir’s side, drawing a howl of pain. He followed with a right, but this time Fenrir barely seemed to feel the attack, and simply slapped Jack, backhanded, across the face.

Jack folded like a bad poker hand, and the ground rushed up to smack him in the face.

*

Jack woke with a splitting pain in his head. He probed his jaw with his tongue, and found several teeth that felt loose, but fortunately none missing, although he did seem to have lost a filling. He opened his eyes, and finding the light bearable began to assess his situation.

Teal’c sat on a wooden bench, gazing fixedly forward, while Parker, Wayne and Thomas were – like Jack – still in the process of recovery. They were in a cell, seemingly cut from the living rock, open at one end but blocked by iron bars, and lit through a shaft at the top of the wall which angled sharply upwards. The quality of the light suggested that it was nearly sunset.

"Where’s Fowler?" Parker asked, groggily.

"Here, Sir," the Sergeant’s voice called from outside the cell. "Next room along, I think."

"Is Mary with you?" Jack asked.

"No, Sir," Fowler replied. "Maybe we lucked out and they decided to eat her first."

"That’s enough of that, Sergeant," Jack told the woman, darkly. "They weren’t going for her at all until she started shooting people off your back."

"Sorry, Sir," Fowler replied, chastened.

"Damn that guy hits hard," Thomas grunted.

"Yeah," Jack agreed. "I know you said so, Parker, but…Now I understand."

"He didn’t hit me at all," Fowler reported. "I was mobbed and beaten unconscious. When I came to in here they insisted on putting some kind of salve on my wounds. My fatigues were pretty much shot, so they gave me some local togs."

"How’re you holding up, Teal’c?" Jack asked.

"I should not have lost my temper with Fenrir," Teal’c replied. "I allowed myself to become angry, and rushed him instead of falling back and using my zat’nik’tel."

"How strong would you say he was?" Jack ask. "Stronger than most Goa’uld, right?"

"Indeed, O’Neill. Fenrir was at least as powerful as most of the Unas we have encountered."

"Yeah. Thought so," Jack said. "And fast." He stood, clutching his head, and heard sounds of activity outside the cell.

Five guards entered, flanking an attractive young woman in a green dress, who carried a cloth bag.

"That’s the Doc," Fowler told them. "The one who put the salve on my wounds."

"Is that salve any good?" Jack asked.

"Who cares?" Wayne asked, eyeing the ‘doctor’.

Fowler laughed. "I think so," she said, replying to Jack and otherwise ignoring the Lieutenant. "I feel pretty good for a stoning victim."

The guards opened door in the bars, and two of them stood with their spears at the ready. Their leader, who wore as symbols of rank a fur-lined cloak and a heavy sword at his belt, took out a scroll, and read out: "O Nell!"

Jack stepped forward. "I’m O’Neill," he said, enunciating carefully.

"O’Neill," the leader corrected himself. Then he gestured to the two guards who still hung back. One of them stepped aside, and the leader indicated that Jack should leave the cell and pass between them. This he did, and found the two falling in behind him as an escort. In front of him was an open door.

"Take me to your leader," Jack surmised. As he went, he heard the leader call out behind him: "Tilk!"

_*_

As soon as he was above ground level, it became apparent to Jack that he was inside the stave church; no other building in the town could be this size. The surroundings were familiar to him, being very similar to Freyja’s hall aboard the Sesrumnir.

"You guys don’t speak much English do you?" He asked. "Or in fact, any English?" The Guards made no response. "I thought not."

They arrived at a door, and one of the guards stepped forward to open it, and motioned for Jack to go through.

"Thank…" he began, turning back towards them, the door closed behind him, leaving the two guards on the outside.

"Felcom, Chak O’Neel."

Jack spun at the sound of the voice, so deep and booming that it could only belong to one man.

"Please, be seaded," the man-mountain continued. "Vor I fould talk vith chou."

Fenrir was seated on a high chair at the head of a large hall. A fire burned merrily in a stone hearth against one wall, and a table and chairs stood before it. On the other side of the room was an alcove that looked to contain a bed. It was all very cosy.

Seated on a stool in front of Fenrir was a dark-haired woman in a very fetching, red woollen dress, hemmed with a brightly-coloured, cross-woven band. Jack was fairly certain that he had seen no dark hair on any of the townsfolk, and so it came as little surprise when the woman looked around and said: "Hi, Jack."

"Hi, Mary," Jack said. "Nice dress."

Mary seemed somewhat distracted, which might have had something to do with the homespun grandeur of her surroundings, but it seemed more likely to be because Fenrir was shirtless. Jack liked to think of himself as well toned, but in comparative terms, he knew that he just did not measure up. Without his cloak, Fenrir’s shoulders no longer looked so ludicrously wide, but he was unmistakably powerful, and there could hardly have been an ounce of spare fat on his torso. His muscles were well-defined, but in a practical way, not like the over-pumped physique of a bodybuilder.

Around his abdomen was a linen bandage. Jack deduced that he probably had a wound under his right arm – perhaps from Fowler’s rifle – which was the only reason he had even felt Jack’s first punch through his slab-like abdominals. A fine silver chain looped close around his neck and shoulders, and under his arms. Jack figured there must be a catch at the back, or Fenrir would never be able to take the thing off. _Which must be the whole point_ , Jack realised. _Because that must be the Gleipnir device_.

"Thanks. Take a seat," Mary said, repeating Fenrir’s invitation, and gesturing to a chair.

Jack stood, warily facing the Wolf, and declining to sit. "Mary," he asked. "Would you mind if I asked what you’re doing here…" He looked around, regarding the remains of a meal that lay scattered between her and Fenrir. "Taking tea with the guy who tried to kill us?"

Mary pulled her eyes away from Fenrir to look at Jack. "He didn’t try to kill us," she told him. In fact, he went to some lengths to keep us alive." Jack looked sceptical, so she explained: "He attacked the camp to rescue Roskva…"

"She wasn’t exactly a prisoner," Jack protested.

"She claims she was," Mary explained, apologetically. "As a storyteller, she seems to really jam on epic melodrama in place of factual reporting, and it avoids her having to admit she wandered so far from the village. Anyway, he seems to be very fond of the girl, and as she said you were cruel to her, he perceived you as a threat to his people."

"His people?"

"But," Mary went on, ignoring the interruption. "Roskva said that I was wise and gentle…"

"So he had the village women beat you up?"

"Jack!" Mary said, exasperated.

"My people reacted to what zey saw as a sreat," Fenrir said. Jack concentrated on his words, and realised that – although heavily-accented – his English was really very good.

"Why do you speak English, and none of them do?" Jack asked.

"I learned a long time ago," Fenrir replied. Jack found that it got easier to understand him each time he spoke. "But it was not the language here, so I have not used it in some time."

"Anyway," Mary took up, taking Jack by the shoulder and steering him a little way from Fenrir. "He stopped the women beating Fowler and myself to death, and saw to it that our wounds were treated. There should be someone seeing to the rest of SG-5 at the moment."

Jack nodded. "There is, yeah."

"Since I’m so wise and gentle," Mary said. "Fenrir gave me a chance to explain myself. I’ve told him that what happened with Roskva was a misunderstanding, and that we’re sorry for frightening her. I’ve also told him that we don’t come from the Surtur, or the Jotun, and that you are brave and noble warriors."

"And what else?" Jack asked.

"That we were looking for my friend, Angharad," she replied. "The rest, I told him he’d have to ask you. I didn’t know what to tell him about his family."

"What if he’s not happy with what I tell him?"

"The townsfolk want you all executed," Mary told Jack. "Roskva’s family are highly thought of, and she’s apparently turned the story of her abduction into a tale of spine-tingling horror. Accepting that she might have succumbed to exaggeration…"

"Like with the uncle who rips up trees with his bare hands. Or is that…?"

Mary nodded. "Fenrir; and I don’t think that’s too much of an overstatement. I mean, you saw how strong he is."

"I _felt_ how strong he is."

"But apparently she does have a tendency to embroider her tales a little, so giving us the benefit of the doubt, they’ve agreed to abide by Fenrir’s judgement in the matter. Unless you convince him otherwise, we’ll all be put to death by order of the council of elders."

Jack snorted. "I doubt the council of elders would sneeze without his permission."

"Like blaming the Sanhedrin for the crucifixion, you mean," Mary asked, concerned.

"Possibly," Jack said. "If I knew who the Sanhedrin were. Okay," he went on, before Mary could start explaining. "I’ll talk to him, for all the good it’ll do."

"He seems a reasonable man?" Mary said.

"He’s Goa’uld," Jack replied. "Or as near as. Which means he’ll keep seeming reasonable right up until he gets bored and has us killed."

Mary frowned. "I don’t know," she said. "He doesn’t…"

"Trust me," Jack said. "They’re all pretty much alike; even the ones who’re on our side." He sighed. "But I’ll talk to him. I just wish Daniel were here."

"Oh?"

"Yeah; I get beaten up a lot less when he’s around."

"Good negotiator?"

"Nah. Everyone just beats up on him instead. Not sure why."

Jack and Mary turned back to where Fenrir sat, regarding them thoughtfully. Mary settled herself back on her stool, and Jack sat in the chair that had been provided.

"So, Jack O’Neill," Fenrir said. "What brings you and your companions to Jelling?"

"We’re…explorers," Jack said. "We have a mission to seek out new life, and new civilisations. To go boldly where no man has gone before, although rather more often than we expected other men seem to have got there first. We seek only friendship and understanding, that we might learn from other cultures." The last part was cribbed almost word-for-word from Daniel’s preferred mission statement for the SGC, and the archaeologist would probably have laughed out loud to hear Jack spouting it. On the other hand, Jack had few doubts that Fenrir would not take kindly to learning of Jack’s mission to defeat his father, and fewer compunctions about lying to a Harcesis.

Jack glanced at Mary, and was impressed by her poker face.

Fenrir nodded, slowly. "Jack O’Neill," he said at last.

"Call me Jack," Jack insisted, affably.

"Jack. I think that you are lying to me."

"Well," Jack replied. "That shows a lack of trust that’s as much your problem as mine. Except for the part where I die and you don’t, of course," he added.

"Jack," Fenrir said, with every sign of concern. "If you do not convince me otherwise, the Jaffa and the men will be executed by the spear, and the shieldmaiden stoned to death by the women of the town."

"Shieldmaiden?" Jack asked.

"Sergeant Fowler," Mary explained.

"Oh. I think ‘maiden’ might be overstating the case," Jack said.

Fenrir did not look amused. "I can try to help you, if you tell me the truth. If not…As she is not a warrior – and with Roskva’s support – I believe I may be able to persuade the townsfolk to allow Mary to return through the Chappa’ai with a warning for your people to never come here again, but that is all."

"You’re all heart," Jack replied, acidly.

"The people of Jelling have long since learned to mistrust those who come from the Chappa’ai," he said. "Once, they lived under the absolute tyranny of the Surtur, but they no longer submit to them, and they will not submit to you. If your people attempt an attack on us, you will be resisted."

"Attack?" Jack demanded, hotly. "Tyranny? We’re not the ones dictating terms and living in a church."

"Jack…" Mary cautioned, but Jack was just getting up a head of steam.

"You tell us the people won’t submit to tyranny; well what about yours?"

"I am no tyrant," the Wolf growled, fury banking behind his eyes.

"You bring me in here, threatening to kill my men…"

"I threaten none," Fenrir responded, rising from his seat. "I am trying to _help_ you!"

"Like you _helped_ the people of Keruch?"

For a long moment, Jack was certain that Fenrir was about to go for him, and he was sickeningly aware that he would probably come off by far the worst in that confrontation. The giant’s eyes glistened with tears of rage, his fists clenched until his knuckles practically shone white, and a bestial growl escaped from his throat.

"Jack," Mary whispered. "Please…" She turned to Fenrir. "He doesn’t mean…"

"Yes," Fenrir said, tightly. "He does." He turned his eyes form Jack to Mary, and his face softened. "And perhaps he is right. But I must try to help them," he told Jack. "For these are my people now." He slumped into his chair, despondent.

"And what _exactly_ do you do for them?" Jack asked. "Laying down the law from your temple?"

"Uh…Jack," Mary said. "It’s not a temple. Or a church." She looked embarrassed. "I know I said it was a stave church, and it _is_ built just like one. But it’s not a church."

"Well, what is it?" Jack asked her.

"It’s a school," Mary replied.

"A training ground for your soldiers?" Jack accused Fenrir.

"No," Mary said. "I saw what goes on here. They teach medicine, and animal husbandry and crop rotation."

"Also blacksmithing, stave building and drystoning," Fenrir added.

"All the towns and villages send some of their children here to learn, and they take the skills back to their homes."

Fenrir nodded. "More importantly, they get to know the children of the other settlements. As people, not as enemies. When I was first sent here the population was fragmented," he explained. "A handful of villages, each ruled by a degenerate, inbred warrior-aristocracy, feeding their youngest children and their strongest peasants to the Surtur as tribute."

"And you brought them together," Jack said. "One big, happy army of slaves."

"No…" Fenrir began to rise, but sat back down with a grunt.

"Oh my God," Mary whispered. "Your side…"

Fenrir looked down, to where a red stain was growing on his bandages. Jack eyed Fenrir shrewdly. He looked weakened, but just what that meant was unclear. Fenrir was strong enough that Jack was far from sure he could take him, even at less than full capacity.

"It’s nothing," Fenrir assured Mary, returning Jack’s calculating gaze.

"Jack," Mary said. "I really think we can trust him."

"We really can’t."

"Why not?"

Jack glowered at her. "Ask Daniel what happened to his wife," he said. "Ask Teal’c about what he did in the service of Apophis. Ask Sam what happened to her father on Netu, or ask me about all the friends I’ve buried since the Stargate Programme began." He locked his gaze with Mary’s, his eyes flinty. "And if we actually manage to find her; ask Annie why you can’t _ever_ trust a Goa’uld."

"That’s not true," Fenrir protested, earnestly.

"No?" Jack replied. "Well why don’t we ask Teal’c then?"

"The Jaffa?" Fenrir asked.

"Yeah."

"Very well," Fenrir agreed, somewhat to Jack’s surprise. Suppressing another pained gasp, the giant rose and strode to the door, only a slight limp betraying his injury.

"You look like you weren’t expecting him to say that," Mary observed.

Jack shot the woman an angry glance. "I’m just not sure why he cares what we think of him. I’d expect him to be onto the torture by now."

"Maybe he really is different," Mary suggested, not blinking in the face of Jack’s anger. Jack wondered if the archaeologist really was as brave as she seemed, or if she just could not conceive of a situation in which anyone really would cause her deliberate harm.

"He’s not," Jack replied. "He can’t be; by which I mean it literally isn’t possible. The Goa’uld have a genetic memory, which means their kids are _born_ smart and evil."

Mary’s face fell. "He seemed…"

Jack let himself soften slightly. "I know. They can be very…persuasive when they want to be. I’m just not sure what kind of game he’s playing. He’s got us in his power; why does he care what we think?"

"Search me," Mary retorted, in a brittle voice. "You’re the one who knows these things."

"Don’t take it so personally," Jack told her. "We’ve all been duped one time or another."

"It’s not…" Mary sighed. "Never mind. But what do we do? What if you establish his evilness beyond a shadow of doubt? We’re still stuck here."

"For now," Jack said. "I’m mostly playing for time. Also, with Teal’c here and him injured, we might have a chance of taking Fenrir. Other than that, I’m pretty much winging it," he admitted.

 

Teal’c was brought up from the cells by the guards, and it was immediately apparent that he would not be much use in a fight against Fenrir.

"Is that thing broken?" Jack asked, pointing at the bindings on the Jaffa’s arm.

"It is merely sprained, O’Neill," Teal’c assured him. "And my shoulder was dislocated."

"Sorry to hear that," Jack said, with feeling.

Teal’c looked stoic. "It was my own fault, O’Neill."

"How do you figure that?" Mary asked, pointedly not looking in Fenrir’s direction. "You’re not the one who slammed you into a wall."

"I should have released my staff weapon as soon as I became aware that I was facing an opponent of superior strength," Teal’c explained. "And I should not have attempted to assault him bare-handed."

Jack looked up at Fenrir, but the Harcesis was apparently lost in thought. He took an experimental step towards the man, and the golden eyes raised slowly towards him. His bandage was completely red on one side, but the stain appeared to have stopped spreading.

"So Fenrir here," Jack said. "Claims that he has only the best intentions."

"That would seem unlikely." Teal’c replied.

"He seems to want to know why we won’t trust him," Jack added. "Why don’t you tell him, Teal’c?"

So Teal’c did; outlining his duties in the service of Apophis, in considerable – one might almost say unnecessary – detail. Mary shivered, and at one point asked to be excused. Fenrir appeared to be almost as disturbed, but still made a show of consideration for Mary, which she shrugged off, harshly.

"The nature of the Goa’uld does not change," Teal’c said. "In all of their history, only one Goa’uld Queen and her brood have truly succeeded in changing, and even the Tok’ra remain insular, superior and condescending, sometimes with little true consideration for the ‘lesser’ species that they blend with."

"But you admit then that it _is_ possible for a Goa’uld to want something other than power?" Fenrir said.

"Possible, but almost unheard of," Teal’c replied. "The Goa’uld became fixed in their ways millennia ago. Even before they are mature enough to blend with a host, they are capable of deception and malice. My love was betrayed and destroyed by the Goa’uld larva that she carried inside her."

"But I am not Goa’uld," Fenrir protested. He seemed to be appealing to Mary, but the archaeologist would not even meet his eye.

"You are Harcesis," Teal’c replied. "You have the memories, and the darkness of the Goa’uld inside you. Daniel Jackson is probably the finest human being that I know…"

"Thanks, Buddy," Jack muttered.

"You and I are both killers, O’Neill, in a way that Daniel Jackson could never be."

Jack shrugged, conceding the point.

"But Daniel Jackson was once granted the opportunity to learn what he would do with the knowledge of a Harcesis, and he saw that he would become as the Goa’uld are."

"It’s not true," Fenrir insisted. "Ask anyone in Tangrind if I seek to dominate them. Ask them out of my presence if you think I might intimidate them."

"How about your historian?" Jack asked. "Roskva’s mother. Let us talk to her."

"Very well," Fenrir said. "Ask the guards to invite her here. Her name is Gerda. I will leave and let you talk to her in private."

"Actually; I think it might be more interesting to talk to her with you here," Jack said. "Mary, would you…" He motioned towards the door, and Mary nodded, before going to speak to the guards. Fenrir looked glad not to be asked to move, and settled pensively in his chair.

"What are you thinking, O’Neill?" Teal’c asked in a whisper.

"That he’s flagging," Jack replied. "We need to spin this out a little longer, and we have a shot at getting out alive."

It took only a few minutes for Gerda to arrive. A fresh-faced, handsome woman of around Mary’s age, she had the same fair colouring as the rest of the people, although her eyes were a darker shade of blue, and her hair a little more coppery than golden. She carried a large bag on a shoulder strap.

"Your wound!" She exclaimed, on seeing Fenrir’s bloodstained bandages, Mary providing a translation for Jack and Teal’c.

"I will be fine," Fenrir insisted, once more.

"Rubbish," Gerda retorted, and at once set about cleaning and rebinding his wound, taking fresh bandages and some kind of poultice from her bag. "Just because you heal fast is no reason to be complacent," she scolded him.

Jack was a little amused by the scene, but only a little; Gerda’s intervention might stop Fenrir weakening far enough.

"Excuse me, Gerda," he said, speaking through Mary. "Could you tell us what your history records about Fenrir’s arrival here?"

"Very little," Gerda replied. "The stories I was taught by my mother tell of a Jotun named Sedna, who came to our home from the North. She was harried by her brother gods, Malina and Aningan, and so she gathered our people to be her servants."

"Good Lord!" Mary exclaimed, interrupting her own translation. "Greenland."

"Greenland?" Jack asked.

"The Western Greenland Viking colony all but vanished overnight," she explained. "They weren’t doing so well, but no-one really knows why they vanished so suddenly."

"I guess now we do," Jack replied.

"Sedna brought us through the stars to this land," Gerda continued, after Mary had explained the interruption. "In her ship of iron."

"Why would a Goa’uld use a ship when there is a Stargate on this world?" Teal’c mused.

"Vikings, Teal’c," Jack reminded him. "By the time these people were brought here, the Stargate on Earth had been buried for centuries."

Gerda took up her tale again, showing great patience for the interruptions. She spoke evenly and calmly, with none of the tell-tale glances at Fenrir that might have indicated nerves or intimidation. "Sedna left once we had been delivered here, and gave our people with certain instructions: To obey those she made or lords; to build a temple to her glory; to kill any who passed through the Chappa’ai without her leave and her sign; and to mine the fire-rocks from the Northern mountains."

"Fire-rocks?" Jack asked.

"It’s what she said," Mary replied. "I can’t give a better translation."

"The element known as naquadah," Fenrir explained. "It occurs in the northern mountains in some quantity."

"Sedna told our ancestors that she would soon return, but at her departure, a bright light filled the sky, and some said that this was the goddess dying."

"Her ship was destroyed," Teal’c surmised. "For intruding in this system."

"The leaders we were given began to argue how best to obey Sedna’s commands, and indeed whether she should be obeyed at all if she were dead. Each took their followers to found their own village, several of which still hold the beginnings of a temple to Sedna; all abandoned before they were finished. Kirkhafn has the most complete, and the walls there bear this early history in runic script."

Mary spoke to Gerda in her own tongue. "I was just saying that I would like to see that," she explained to Jack. "She says she would be glad to take me there if the elders don’t order my death," she added.

"Not long after Sedna left, the Surtur began to send their trolls to attack us. They said that their masters ruled this world and the worlds above and below it, and we must pay them tribute. When we refused to pay, they took. They took food, wood and fire-rock; and they took people. Children on the verge of adulthood were favoured; the best and the brightest of us."

Fenrir’s hands tightened o the arms of his chair, and a look of tight control came over his face.

"The villages began making offerings, and to keep the Giants from claiming the best that they had to offer, they would steal from other villages. Raid and counter-raid, growing in scale and escalating into long-held and bitter feuds. It was a dark time, but also the first time that people began to speak of the Wolf.

"There are tales of children taken by the trolls, yet returned to their families along with the other tributes; all spoke of a great wolf, that walked as a man, and saved them from the trolls. These tales spread, until at long last, in the time of my grandmother’s grandmother’s grandmother, the Wolf revealed himself to the people."

"How long ago is that?" Jack asked.

Mary shrugged. "Hundred and fifty years perhaps."

"It was my grandmother’s grandmother’s grandmother who first spoke with the Wolf, and came to realise that he was a man," Gerda went on. "She brought him to the village – for Tangrind was but a small village then – and he saw how we lived, and he began to teach us better ways of doing things."

"So, what has he done for you?" Jack asked.

"He helped us to settle the feuds, and organise ourselves to protect against the trolls. If it were not for Fenrir and the academy, I would never have met my husband; a man from Kirkhafn. If not for him, I would have died in childbirth, and my Roskva would have died also."

"But he demands a price?" Jack asked. "This hall for example. The people built it; like they were going to build the temple to Sedna?"

"Oh, no," Gerda replied. "In my grandmother’s grandmother’s time, Fenrir raised the hall by his own hands. Many of the young men helped, but of their own will, so that they could learn the way of it. Then they went home to their farms and their villages, and they made their homes the same way."

"Does he teach you to fight?"

"He taught us to fight the trolls. To work together and to seek shelter behind the walls."

"What about the guards outside? Are they his servants?"

"No. In fact, he told us they were not necessary, but the Council did not feel it was wise to have dangerous prisoners in the Academy unguarded. The cells are usually used only to hold unruly students for the night," she admitted. "And they are not very strong."

 

Jack was still trying to think of another question to ask Gerda when a cacophony of blaring horns cut through the air.

"Would any of your people be coming through the Chappa’ai?" Fenrir demanded of Jack.

"I’m not expecting anyone," Jack replied.

"Trolls," Fenrir hissed, standing and pulling on a woollen kirtle.

Gerda’s face turned white with fear. Fenrir noticed, moved to the woman, and spoke softly to her. She responded, her voice quavering.

"What are they saying?" Jack asked.

"She says…Oh God; she says that since she came back with no firewood last time, she sent Roskva out to gather more, and she does not think she is back yet. Fenrir is telling her to find out, and that he will bring her back."

Fenrir gently kissed the top of Gerda’s head.

"He told her to go to her husband," Mary added, as the woman hurried out. "And see that the beacons are lit."

Meanwhile, the Wolf was drawing on an overshirt and his heavy cloak.

"This could work for us," Jack suggested. "We can break out while the townsfolk are fighting the trolls, and get back to the Stargate. Finding the stone is probably a bust, but if the Asgard are right about these Fire Giants, then no Goa’uld should be able to come here."

"But they could send Jaffa," Teal’c reminded him.

"Look at him," Mary urged, pointing to Fenrir, who was arming himself with a heavy sword and a short, thick bow, his brow furrowed with concern. "Is that pretence?"

"I’m sure you have a point," Jack said, impatiently.

"My _point_ is that all other things aside, the man is plainly nuts about this kid – him and the rest of this town – and whatever he says, he’s working around a major gunshot wound. Now, if he goes out there to fight these trolls, there’s a good chance he’ll run into trouble, and that would be it for both him and the girl, right?"

"Right," Jack agreed.

"So if someone were able to help him out, thus saving his life and rescuing his Little Rose…"

"Little Rose?" Teal’c asked.

"It’s his pet name for Roskva," Mary explained. "But if someone were to do that, Fenrir might well be construed as _owing that person a favour_."

"The Goa’uld are not know for keeping their word, or for paying their debts," Teal’c said.

"Well…whatever!" Mary snapped, exasperated. "But there’s a little girl out in those woods. Now are you going to leave her there, or what?"

"She has a point," Teal’c admitted.

Jack sighed. "Okay." He turned to Fenrir. "Hey! Fenrir!"

"I have little time, Jack," the Wolf replied. "Please be quick."

"If you let them, my people can help yours defend the town," Jack said.

"I do not trust you," Fenrir said.

"And that’s why I’m going with you to find Roskva. So you can keep an eye on me."

"You couldn’t keep up," Fenrir assured him.

"With you on top form, maybe," Jack agreed. "But you’re not exactly at your best. Now, even armed I reckon I still couldn’t take you alone, so I’ll be a hostage to my people’s good behaviour."

Fenrir looked uncertain, but as he stood in thought, more horn blasts – ever so slightly different – sounded from outside.

"Mai’tac!" The giant snapped, with a savagery that made Mary start. "There are beacon fires at two of the other villages," he explained. "The trolls have come in force." He shook his head. "Very well, Jack; I accept your help, and will ask the Council to release your friends to aid in the defence of the town."

*

The marines of SG-5 had been waiting for several hours when Teal’c and Mary returned, and the guards unlocked the doors.

"What’s happening?" Fowler asked. "What are those horns?"

"The town is under attack," Teal’c told her. "Colonel O’Neill has made a bargain that we may prove our faith with these people by helping them to defend themselves."

"Great," Parker said. "Do we know anything about the enemy?"

"Mary Lasuip?" Teal’c asked.

"They’re called trolls," she said. "Guthwulf here," she indicated one of the guards. "Tells me that they are seven feet tall, with skin like leather, limbs like tree trunks and fists like iron."

"Oh, wacko," said Thomas, without enthusiasm.

Mary continued with her briefing as they left the cell area. "They each carry an iron cudgel, bound with lightning, which we _think_ is something similar to a taser. Apparently these cudgels can shoot lightning up to thirty paces, but are ineffective against the palisade fence. Hand-to-hand, the cudgel can splinter bone, and release an incapacitating charge with contact. Again, this seems to be no good against wood, so the villagers use wooden shields. A small number carry some manner of blasting weapon however.

"If it comes to hand-to-hand, Guthwulf says the trolls are powerful, but slow and stupid. The townsfolk work in pairs, one defending with a large shield, the other attacking with a spear."

"So which of us get spears and which get shields?" Wayne asked.

"We don’t," Mary replied, leading them into a storeroom where their weapons were laid out on a table.

 

"We begin combat on the palisade," Teal’c told the marines. "Pick your shots well until we know where to shoot the trolls."

"The guards say to go for the throat or the eyes if possible," Mary added. "Otherwise the chest; and to shoot them a lot. Also, they hate light, so keep near to the houses and the torches."

From the top of the palisade, the Marines had a commanding view of the area in front of the gates. Guthwulf assured them that there were spotters all around the palisade in case of a flank attack, but that in six and a half centuries, the trolls had never been known to try anything but a frontal assault. Thomas and Parker took up positions, while Wayne found a place above the gates to properly brace the M249. Thomas broke and loaded the M79.

"Fowler," Parker said, pointing out beyond the palisade. "I want you up that watch tower with your rifle."

"Yes, Sir," Fowler acknowledged, moving to obey.

"Thomas; give Miss Lasuip your zat’nik’tel."

"Sir…?"

"Sergeant?"

"Yes, Sir." Thomas removed the zat holster from his belt, and handed the weapon to Mary.

"Colonel O’Neill says you know how to use one of these," Parker told her.

"Well…I managed to get an idea of the basics," she said.

"We have no idea if it will work to stun or kill these trolls, so I recommend three shots. That’ll do for most things."

"Yes, Sir," Mary said.

"You should remain below, Mary Lasuip," Teal’c told her.

Mary looked about to protest, but instead she grinned with relief. "Thanks. I’ll do that."

As Mary bounded down the palisade steps, Parker’s field radio hissed. "Fowler here; do you read?"

"I read you, Sergeant. Go ahead."

"I’m in position, Sir. I can see most of the courtyard and all of the area in front, and we have movement in the trees."

"Roger that, Sergeant," Parker acknowledged. "Stand ready," he ordered. The marines raised their weapons. "What do you reckon for range on the P90s?" He asked Thomas.

"Half to the treeline," the Captain replied. "Absolute tops."

"Then don’t squeeze off a shot before then."

Next to them, Teal’c levelled his staff weapon at the treeline. "They come," he said, simply.

Parker squinted into the darkness. "Bleeding hell," he muttered.

_*_

Jack followed Fenrir through the woods, hearing the tramp of heavy feet far to their right. "Are you sure she went this way?" He asked.

"Almost," Fenrir replied. "I’m a good tracker, but she’s a cunning one, my little Rose." There was pride in his voice, mixed with his fear for Roskva’s safety.

"If you’re so keen to protect these people," Jack said. "Why haven’t you given them better weapons? Zat’nik’tels? Staff weapons? Or posted guards at the Chappa’ai with a couple of those big energy cannon jobs?"

"When the Asgard marooned me on what they thought was a deserted world, they gave me none of these things," Fenrir replied.

"Can’t you make them? You said there was a plentiful naquadah supply?"

"I wouldn’t know how," Fenrir admitted.

"What about all that genetic memory?" Jack asked. "You’re a Harcesis; you should know everything. Weapons, spaceships, armour, satellite death rays; all that kind of thing?"

Fenrir shook his head. "Such was not my inheritance," he said. I was not gifted with the same knowledge as my sister. She was always the clever one; I just muddle through."

Jack looked at him, dubiously. "You mean you have no genetic memory at all?"

"I remember some things," Fenrir admitted. "Things I never learned. Like the things that I teach at the Academy; the skills of a farmer, and a healer. These things…I think that my parents were these things once."

"Your parents? You mean their hosts?" Jack asked.

"Perhaps," Fenrir said. "I do not quite understand how it works. My father…" He trailed off, pained. "My father always considered me to be worse than a failure; a waste of flesh and blood he called me. Only my sister would stand up for me," he added, almost reverently. "She treated me kindly, and tried to help me become more powerful, so that father might see me differently."

"How did she help you?" Jack asked, warily.

"She was a genius," Fenrir said. "She altered me: Made me stronger, faster, smarter; implanted me with the devices which keep me alive."

"She used you as a guinea pig," Jack said, disgusted.

"Guinea pig?"

"As a test subject. To see which implants might take well in her."

"No," Fenrir insisted. "She had only my best interests at heart. She was a good, kind person to spend so much effort on someone little more than an animal."

Jack felt his blood was about to boil. By some fluke, Loki and Angrboda had birthed an innocent, with a gift for aiding others, and they had made him feel like a dumb beast. His sister – his _twin_ sister – had used him as a big, affable lab rat, and he had never realised.

"Fenrir?" Jack asked. "What happened on Keruch?"

Fenrir was silent for a long moment. "Father always refused to grant me the governance of any of his systems," he said at last. "I believed I had a lot to offer, particularly on a newly-founded colony, but he never gave me the chance to prove myself."

"Oh boy," Jack whispered, realising he might have inadvertently triggered an episode of teary nostalgia.

"Keruch was one of the worlds that father granted governorship of to my sister, and she allowed me to oversee its early development. I was so excited," he said, wistfully. "So full of plans and good intentions. I knew I had a great deal to offer these people, and that if I could make something of this world, then father would see that I was not useless."

"So you ground them beneath the iron heel like a good little Harcesis…"

"No!" Fenrir snapped. "Why do you…!" He realised that he was shouting, and lowered his voice. "Why do you always say these things? My kin have never sought to harm others."

"So what did you do on Keruch?" Jack asked, putting aside the need to introduce Fenrir to some home truths for another time.

"Much as I have done here," Fenrir replied. "I taught them how to farm and build, and to tend their sick and wounded. They were afraid of me at first; of my appearance."

"How could that possibly be?"

"But they came to accept me," the giant continued. "In time I gained their trust, and a wife and a child." He sighed. "My father refused to recognise my achievements, but I no longer cared so much."

Jack felt a lump in his throat, knowing how this story of domestic idyll was due to end.

"But then my sister sent an urgent message to me, asking if I would aid her in battle against one of her enemies; a lesser System Lord named Kepher. I did so, but when I returned home to Keruch…" Fenrir choked on a sob, then looked up at Jack with haunted eyes. "It was like walking into a nightmare," he whispered.

 

*

 

It appeared that Guthwulf had not exaggerated when describing the trolls. The creature who stepped from the treeline was easily seven feet tall, with dark, greenish skin that certainly looked as through it should be tough as boot-leather. It’s eyes were large, and recessed behind a heavy brow. Its hair was a lank, blonde mane, peeking out from under a conical helmet, and it wore armour of leather and steel plates, fashioned much in the style of the Jelling-folk’s tunics. It carried a heavy club, on which the occasional light flashed and blinked.

Through his field glasses, Parker could see the creature’s eyes, dark, beady and malevolent, glowering from beneath a heavy brow. At this distance, in this light, it was all but impossible to see how many of the creatures skulked in the woods behind the leader.

"Thomas," Parker whispered. "Ready with a flare, but don’t put it up until I give the word."

"Yes, Sir."

The leader took six long strides forward, to stand before the gates. Parker panned up with his glasses, and saw Fowler sighting the monstrous figure with her rifle. "Hold your fire for now, Sergeant," Parker whispered into his radio. "If the situation goes south, Thomas will put up a flare and you should fire at will."

"Roger that, Sir."

Teal’c observed the marines quietly, impressed by their efficiency. Jaffa warriors led lives of near-absolute discipline, rarely letting their control falter, even when in the presence of none but family and friends. There was nothing of the joking that went on between human soldiers, and Teal’c often found himself entertaining doubts about the professionalism of human soldiers; until they went into action.

Teal’c raised his own field radio. "Sergeant Fowler," he said. "Are you able to ascertain the number of trolls still hiding in the woods?"

"Sorry, Sir," Fowler replied. "It’s too dark back there."

The troll began to speak, and its voice was as hideous as its aspect; guttural and harsh, as though every word were an obscenity. The language was recognisably the antique Norse dialect of the people of Jelling, and while Teal’c did not understand that tongue, the tone was clear and familiar: The troll was demanding that the people of Tangrind deliver up their tribute, and threatening dire consequences for resistance.

Teal’c levelled his staff weapon at the treeline, waiting. Dark shapes moved between the trees; many of them. Not for the first time since joining SG-1, Teal’c wished he had managed to bring more Goa’uld munitions – specifically a supply of shock grenades and tacs – with him when he defected.

One of the townsfolk stood on the palisade and shouted down to the troll, his voice defiant. The troll called back a threat, which was answered with jeers and catcalls from the assembled warriors. There was fear behind the defiance however, and Teal’c guessed that the townsfolk were becoming aware of just how many trolls had come for them.

The troll spoke again, in a ‘last warning’ kind of voice. In response, an arrow streaked from the top of the palisade, striking it in the collar. The arrow punched clear through the troll’s body, but did not seem to phase it overmuch.

"Thomas," Parker said, and the Sergeant fired a signal flare, the brilliant phosphorescent light casting an eerie glow over the clearing before the town, and revealing rank upon rank of the horrid trolls crouched at the treeline and beyond.

With a fierce crack, the lead troll’s head split open under the force of a rifle shot. The townsfolk were plainly stunned, but the trolls, if they were impressed, did not show it. With a fierce warcry, uttered in no language Teal’c had even heard before, they surged forward from the trees.

 

*

 

"My people had become…worse than animals," Fenrir told Jack. "They were fighting each other; fighting tooth and nail and _killing_ each other with their bare hands. Mothers killing their children; husbands killing their wives; brothers tearing each other apart. And when there was no one nearby for them to kill…They fed," he whispered, in a voice filled with horror.

"Fed on…?" Jack began to ask, but stopped, appalled. "Oh. God."

"I didn’t know what to do," Fenrir went on. "I fought my way to my house, to protect my family, but…" He shivered, and paused a log time before going on. "But when I got there, my wife had already killed our child, and…

"I couldn’t let it go on," he whispered, hoarsely. "But they wouldn’t stop, and they turned on me. _She_ turned on me. My own wife." The giant choked back a sob.

"After they were dead. I found…In the village centre, I found Kepher’s standard. This was his revenge for his defeat; this cruel, _obscene_ annihilation of my people. So I went after him, and I helped Hel to destroy him, and all of _his_ people." Fenrir’s voice was full of bitterness as he spoke, and a hatred that still burned strongly against Kepher. "I went too far," he said. "I know that. But I was _so_ angry."

"The Asgard…" Jack began.

"The Asgard put me here to punish me," Fenrir said. "I avoided them for so long, because I was afraid of what they might do to me. But they did me a kindness sending me here; where I could find another people to protect. Where I could make amends."

"It’s because of the Asgard I’m here," Jack admitted.

"I suspected as much," Fenrir allowed.

"They told me about Keruch; and about Kepher. But they said…They told me that Hel staged the attack on her home in order to justify the retributive attack on Kepher."

"No," Fenrir whispered. "It’s not true. Why would she do that?"

"Did you tell her you wouldn’t help her go after him?" Jack asked. "When you had driven off his troops?"

"I did."

"And did you go straight home? Or did she persuade you to rest up first?"

"She did…No!" Fenrir insisted. "You can’t believe that."

"When it comes to the Goa’uld, I’ll believe almost anything," Jack told him. "So long as it’s bad."

Fenrir looked lost, and deeply conflicted. Jack was surprised to find that he felt genuinely sorry for the guy.

Behind them, the sound of gunfire cut through the night.

"Looks like the trolls have reached Tangrind," Jack observed.

Ahead of them, they heard a scream. As one, their heads turned to the sound, and they said: "Roskva!"

 

*

 

As the trolls rushed forward, a volley of arrows fell among them, and a few fell. Then Wayne opened up with the SAW, taking down more of them, but the line barely faltered. Every few seconds, Fowler would rack up another kill with her rifle, but with no obvious leaders, the value of a sniper was limited. Thomas fired off a couple of rounds from the M79, but the trolls quickly came too close for the grenades to arm before impact. The trolls were however discomforted by the light from the flare, confused and perturbed by the grenade blasts, and the energy bolts from Teal’c’s staff weapon gave them pause. This was not the fight they had expected, and they did not seem to like it.

Even as the trolls came into effective range of Thomas and Parker’s P90s, they began returning fire with their cudgels; flickering energy blasts spitting forth, accompanied by a fierce hissing sound. A few townsfolk were struck by these blasts, and fell, immobilised from the palisade, but most showed a well developed knack in ducking back at the right moments to allow the blast to flash overhead, or dissipate on the surface of the wood.

Wayne arched backwards, electricity arcing through his body, but he was on the widest part of the walkway, and did not fall. Parker hurried over to his fallen comrade, checked to see that he was still alive, then manned the SAW himself, cutting through the massed ranks of trolls like a scythe.

The trolls began to slow, unable to approach the wall too closely without losing line of sight on the defenders. For a moment, it looked as though they would advance no further, but Teal’c was an old hand, and knew in his gut that something would give soon.

In fact, several somethings gave.

First, the SAW jammed. After a cursory check, Parker abandoned the weapon and switched back to his P90, but the machine gun’s weight of fire was missed.

Second, the trolls brought out their blasting weapons. Obviously short-range devices, these were squat tubes, firing an energy pulse which caused the wood of the palisade to explode from the inside. Much later, Sam determined that these weapons used microwave technology, heating the moisture in a target to cause this internal detonation, and Teal’c was sincerely glad not to have seen one fired at a human being. The collateral effect of the weapon was bad enough, as defenders were thrown from the palisade walkway amid showers of splinters. Teal’c and the marines concentrated their fire on the wielders of these devices, but most of the townsfolk were already abandoning the palisade and forming up in the courtyard.

Finally, the gate fell. Under assault by the blasting weapons, the great boards splintered and shattered, and the way was opened. With a cry of triumph, the trolls charged forward, crashing into a line of shields. The shield bearers – mostly women – were driven back by the impact, but a rank of spearmen behind them thrust forward at the trolls, stabbing at throats and faces while the paralysing charges from the cudgels spattered harmlessly on shield and spear-shaft.

Turning, Teal’c fired into the troll ranks from behind, but as they pressed in over the bodies of the dead, the lines began to blur. Snapping closed the tip of his staff weapon, Teal’c leaped down into the melee.

 

*

 

Jack ran through the forest behind Fenrir, marvelling at the big man’s turn of speed and agility. He knew himself to be in good shape, but he had completely lost sight of Fenrir when he heard the Harcesis’ voice raised in a savage roar. The tell-tale sounds of combat filtered back through the trees – a clash of steel, this hiss-bark of discharging energy weapons – and Jack slowed, approaching the scene with more caution than Fenrir.

Fenrir was locked in battle with six foes. Roskva lay on the ground, battered and bruised, but looking largely unhurt. She was however shivering and twitching in a worrying manner. The enemy, Jack took to be trolls; monstrous figures as large as the Wolf himself, but plainly not so strong. Even as Jack approached, a slash of Fenrir’s sword severed the head from one of the trolls, and a quick punch sent another staggering. He blocked a strike from a troll’s cudgel on his blade, shrugging off the electrical discharge which arced into his arm, and riposting with a lunge that skewered the attacker through the throat. For a moment, Jack actually doubted if Fenrir needed his help, but as the troll staggered away, the Wolf’s sword was pulled from his hand, and a troll struck his side – where the bullet wound was – and he roared in pain.

Fenrir staggered, and three trolls were on him, trying to pin his arms, and firing off charge after charge from their weapons. As the fourth troll, still punch drunk, staggered towards the fray, Jack stood up, and called out: "Hey, ugly!" Not his finest insult, but it did the trick.

The troll looked at Jack. Jack looked at the troll. Then he shot it dead.

The other trolls looked up at the bark of the submachine gun, and Fenrir took advantage of the distraction to grab one of his attackers by the wrist, and thrust its cudgel hard into the face of a second troll. The energy blast arced through the troll, throwing it back, and it toppled away from the maul even as the third warrior struck another painful blow to Fenrir’s wounded side.

In a moment of horrifying clarity, Jack saw the path of the brute’s fall, and knew that its considerable weight was about to crash down on the prone and helpless form of Roskva. Without stopping to think, Jack darted forward, and seized the girl by the arms. The troll’s shadow fell over them both like a cloud, but, fuelled by pure adrenaline, Jack hauled the child away, back-pedalling furiously to get them both clear.

The huge body missed Jack’s foot by less than an inch, but his relief was interrupted as a white-hot pain shot through him. He tried to turn, but found himself unable to do anything but fall flat on his back, Roskva still clutched to his chest. A troll loomed over them, cudgel raised, but just as Jack thought his time had come, the troll seemed to be distracted by something behind it.

Then huge arms wrapped around the creature, and twisted its head until its thick neck snapped with a sickening crack. Jack wished he could have covered Roskva’s ears, to keep the child from hearing that sound.

The troll collapsed, leaving Fenrir standing, bloodied but victorious.

 

*

 

Teal’c swung his staff weapon across, striking a troll to the ground with the butt. Sensing another attacker behind him, he gripped the firing lever, tucked the tip of the staff under his arm and loosed a single, fatal shot. A third troll loomed up, but fell down as a bullet ripped through its throat. Teal’c made a mental note to thank Sergeant Fowler later, and took a moment to assess the situation.

The fighting was still fierce, as the trolls pressed into the main square. Major Parker fought side-by-side with one of the townswomen, standing guard over her fallen husband. Parker fired short, controlled bursts into the trolls from the cover of the heavy wooden shield that the woman carried. One troll tried to jump them as he reloaded, and the woman clobbered it in the face with the shield’s metal rim.

From the corner of his eye, Teal’c saw Sergeant Thomas backed into a corner by a large group of trolls, his weapon hanging empty at his side. As Teal’c turned to help, two trolls fell back, bleeding heavily, as the Sergeant fired a sabot round from his M79, but the rest closed in. Teal’c shot another troll in the back, and a volley of zat blasts struck from the right. Then Teal’c was forced to turn as yet another shrieking warrior struck at him with its cudgel.

After what seemed an age, the night was split by a savage, ululating cry, and the press of trolls retreated. One of the watchtowers sounded a horn blast. Teal’c stood warily for a few more moments, then looked about him, and surveyed the field of battle.

There were at least three dozen trollish dead, including seven or eight around Teal’c himself, and probably many more outside. From the awed looks he was drawing, his performance must have greatly impressed the folk of Tangrind. There were about as many fallen humans as trolls, and the healers were emerging from the Academy now to see to the wounded. Most of the combatant townsfolk stood, exhausted from the effort, but a small group appeared to have been tasked with finishing off any trolls who were wounded but not slain. Major Parker was administering first aid to the man he had helped to guard. Teal’c saw a healer ministering to Thomas, while two others brought Wayne down from the palisade.

After a time, when the trolls had been checked and the dead and wounded gathered in, another horn sounded – three short blasts – and people began to emerge from their houses. It looked as though the entire town was turning out, and several warriors were going into and out of all of the houses. Teal’c realised that they were doing a head count, to see if anyone were missing.

"Sergeant Fowler," he said, speaking into his field radio. "Are you well?"

"Fine and dandy; thanks for asking," Fowler replied. "How about yourself?"

"I am well, thanks in part to you. Captain Wayne and Sergeant Thomas however are injured. Major Parker seems well."

"What about Mary?" Fowler asked.

"I am unsure," Teal’c replied. He looked around, but could see no sign of the archaeologist. "Are the trolls gone?"

"Long gone," Fowler assured him.

"Then please rejoin us in the village," Teal’c said. "And thank you again for your assistance."

Teal’c replaced the radio, and approached Guthwulf to ask after Mary. Not knowing the local language, he attempted to convey his meaning with gesture and by speaking slowly and clearly. While that might work for Daniel Jackson however, it did not seem to be doing the trick for Teal’c. Guthwulf recognised ‘Mary’, but no more than that. Or if he recognised more than that, he could not make Teal’c understand that fact.

Remembering the zat blasts that had struck the trolls attacking Thomas, Teal’c went into the Academy and tracked down the Sergeant.

Thomas was bleeding from a heavy blow to the temple, and a few tell-tale burns revealed that he had also been paralysed. "Mary?" He said. "I dunno, Sir. All I know is, she was there, blasting those things off me. One of them’d clubbed me down, and then the zat blasts started hitting them. I couldn’t turn, but I saw her, shooting from behind a house, and the trolls just turned and left me; headed right out after her.

"Sorry I ragged on her, now," he added. "Probably saved my life."

Teal’c left Thomas, and went into a large hall where the healers were performing the painful task of laying out the dead. Teal’c walked quickly through the hall, noting with limited relief that Mary was not among the slain. He also saw that the healers were laying out the dead trolls with some care. Not so much as they showed towards their slain kin, but more than many would show to a fallen enemy.

"Teal’c!" Parker called, hurrying over to the Jaffa. "The natives are forming some kind of posse. I’m not sure why, and I can’t find Mary to translate."

"I believe that they are going after those abducted by the trolls," Teal’c replied. "And I believe that one of those taken may be Mary Lasuip."

"So, we go with them?" Fowler asked, coming up behind her CO.

"Damn straight!" Parker agreed.

Outside, the horns bared once more, doubtless signalling the hunt. Teal’c nodded, slowly. "We do."

 

*

 

"Damn that thing hurts," Jack muttered, as the feeling returned to his limbs. "How you doing, Rosie?"

Fenrir conveyed Jack’s concern to Roskva, who replied in an uncharacteristically shy voice. "She says she is sorry for what she said about you, and thanks you for saving her," the Wolf reported. "I thank you also. If not for you…"

"If not for us, you wouldn’t have a big ol’ bullet hole in your gut, and you’d have made short work of those clowns. I’ve never seen anyone fight like that."

Fenrir shrugged, modestly. "Such is the power that Hel gave to me. Power that she could use to her own ends," he added, bitterly.

Jack did not know what to say, but the dilemma was taken away when the sound of the horns carried through the woods to them.

"Mai’tac!" Fenrir swore.

"What is it?"

"The trolls are retreating from Tangrind with prisoners. I must head them off at the Gate. Stay with Roskva," he added. "Keep her safe." Then he was away, bounding through the trees as though he had not just taken a heavy beating from three giant aliens.

"Wait…!" Jack sighed, then turned to Roskva. "Take this," he said, holding out his zat. "If anyone tries to hurt you, squeeze here…"

The weapon snapped open in Roskva’s hand, and Jack barely darted aside as a blast of energy whined through the air where he had been standing. The girl looked up at Jack, sheepishly.

"That’s the idea," he said. "Just keep your head down," he said, gesturing. "And we’ll be back for you soon."

Roskva seemed to get the idea, crouching under the low branches of a tree, gripping the zat tight enough to keep the weapon open, but fortunately not to fire it.

"That’s good," Jack said, picking up one of the cudgels and testing its weight. "Now stay there, and Fenrir and I will be right back to get you." He hurried after Fenrir, muttering to himself: "I can’t believe I’m telling kids to sit tight and wait for the big bad wolf to save the day."

*

From her undignified position under the arm of a large troll, Mary watched the forest bounce past her. She had begun to feel seasick before the town had disappeared behind them, and by the time she was set on her feet, facing the Stargate and with a trollish hand clapped firmly on each shoulder, she was about ready to vomit, both from the movement and from the sour, unwashed stench of the trolls. She could not see the other prisoners, but she could hear the bleating of the goats that the trolls had taken, and the clinking of their other booty. Far away, she could also hear the blaring of the town horns.

Were they calling anyone to help her? Or just saying that the trolls had gone?

One of the trolls stepped up to the Gate’s controls – what was it that Jack called it? The DHD? – and began pressing the panels. The Gate thundered into life, and in a blast of spray the pool-like surface of the wormhole event horizon formed. Mary shivered at the cold beauty of the sight in the starlit clearing, and wondered where the portal would take her this time; and if she would ever get back. She desperately wished that she had taken the advice given to her by Dr Jackson, Jack and General Hammond, and just stayed either at the site, or at the SGC.

The lead troll stepped forward, but as it did so, the event horizon collapsed. The troll looked around, something approaching fear in its eyes, and behind her, Mary heard a fierce howl of fury. She tried to cry out in response, but a leathery palm clamped over her mouth, and she was hoisted up and hidden beneath a cloak of foetid, uncured hide. She thrashed and kicked as best she was able, but the troll seemed not to care, simply holding Mary close against its chest. Mary’s eyes stung with tears, and she prayed for a miracle.

 

Fenrir shot two arrows, each punching neatly through a troll-skull, before drawing his sword and closing with his enemy. He kept his blows high and careful, wary of harming the prisoners held in this mass of corrupted flesh. His side, his wound, burned with pain, but he pressed on. So long as he was near, the Gleipnir kept the Chappa’ai from activating, and gave the townsfolk time to catch up to the retreating trolls.

Jack came out of the trees to see the massive figure surrounded by enemies. Hefting the cudgel – for the same reasons as Fenrir, he was unwilling to fire indiscriminately into the pack with his P90 – he let off a volley of energy blasts, clearing a space around Fenrir for a few moments.

The Wolf looked up. "Prisoners!" He roared. "Twenty-one. Find them!"

Jack nodded an acknowledgement, and scanned the crowd carefully. Two trolls tried to rush him, but Fenrir leaped to meet them with steel and fury. Spotting a tight knot of the misshapen warriors near to the Gate, Jack advanced on them, taking two down with the cudgel. As he got closer, one of the trolls caught a paralysing blast on its own weapon, and with a flip of its wrist, sent the pulse flying back towards Jack. Almost without thinking, Jack imitated the troll’s manoeuvre. He felt the cudgel vibrate as the energy wrapped around it, then he thrust it away, and the troll collapsed alongside its fellows.

The remaining trolls looked at Jack with fear and respect in their hooded, malevolent eyes, and the prisoners gazed up in awe.

"It’s all in the reflexes," Jack said, modestly, then swung the cudgel like a baseball bat, dropping two more trolls in a shower of sparks. "Run!" He told the prisoners, and they were not slow to obey. As they rose, Jack covered their retreat with the cudgel, and tried to count them past. Was that twenty-one? He thought it was, but had little time to recount as the trolls pressed him back on the heels of the rescued locals.

"You want a piece of me!?" He challenged, belligerently. "Come get some!"

The trolls faltered, and started to back warily away.

Jack felt a swell of pride. "I’m good," he said.

Then one of the trolls seemed to rally, raising his weapon, but a blast of energy burned a smoking hole through his throat, and the forest behind Jack erupted with gunfire.

"Yes!" Jack yelled. "Fenrir! I got ‘em!"

Locked in battle near to the DHD, Fenrir barely looked up, but the distraction allowed one of the largest trolls to score a hit, striking the Wolf hard across the temple. Fenrir staggered, and a second blow knocked him through the ring of the Stargate and away into the night. Three trolls pounded after him, while the leader moved to the DHD.

"Ah, damn," Jack muttered.

Alongside him, the village warriors were streaming from the forests, forming a line of shields in front of the trolls.

"Colonel O’Neill," Teal’c said, moving up beside Jack.

"Your timing is excellent, as ever," Jack said.

Teal’c nodded in acknowledgement of the compliment. "Mary Lasuip was taken from the town," he added. "Have you seen her?"

Alarmed, Jack gave the rescued prisoners another head count. There were twenty, and Mary was not among them. He turned back to the trolls, just as the Stargate exploded into life once more.

 

"Mary!"

 _Was that Jack’s voice?_ Mary wondered. _Do they know I’m here?_ She redoubled her efforts to break free, although the troll’s grip seemed unbreakable. The Stargate’s light was filtering around the edge of the cloak, and Mary knew she must have mere seconds to get free.

Then, her hand closed around the grip of her captor’s cudgel, and with a burst of adrenaline, she dragged it from its belt, and struck hard at the troll’s legs.

The troll roared in pain and released Mary. She fell hard, but kept her grip on the cudgel, and came to her knees, striking savagely at her captor’s shins and kneecaps. The troll fell, and Mary felt a moment of triumph, before two more took its place.

"Oh, fine…," she muttered, then casting dignity to the winds, she hauled back and screamed: "Heeeeelp!"

 

Jack heard the cry, and saw the two trolls catch Mary by the arms and drag her towards the Gate. Fowler’s rifle spoke, and one of the trolls fell, but the second was already pressing Mary forward into the wormhole.

 

Mary was twisted around, and saw the shimmering event horizon looming before her. She wanted to pray, but after a lifetime of atheism it hardly seemed the way to go out. And then she saw it, a shadow behind the event horizon. Something moving towards her, so very fast. The troll set a hand on her back, and pushed.

 

"Oh my God!" Fowler gasped.

"What was that?" Parked demanded.

"That," Jack told them. "Was _so_ cool."

"It was most impressive," Teal’c allowed. The two marines looked at the Jaffa in disbelief.

"That’s big emotion from him," Jack assured them.

Parker and Fowler turned back to the Stargate, still not sure if they had seen what they thought they saw. What they _thought_ they had seen was Fenrir – his body covered in blood, stained black in the light of the wormhole – leap _out_ of the Stargate to snatch Mary from the troll’s grasp, leaving the brute to lose its arm as the event horizon collapsed.

Desperately, the trolls dialled out for a third time, and this time the villagers allowed them to flee.

 

Mary was feeling a little shaken. She was still not sure what exactly had happened; only that Fenrir – who to her knowledge might or might not be a bloodthirsty mass-murderer – was crouched over her, whispering in ancient Norse. The fact that he was coated in blood was not helping her state of mind, but there was something almost hypnotic in his voice, and in his golden eyes.

"Are you well, Mary?" Fenrir was asking as she first became aware of what he was saying. She had a feeling he might have asked that before.

"I think…Yes. I think."

"You’re safe now," he promised her. "Safe always."

"You’re…"

"I am fine."

"The blood…"

"Most of it is not mine."

"Your wound," she said. "Let me see it."

"That will not be…Ow!" He bellowed, as Mary pushed a hand into his side.

"Let me see."

Reluctantly, Fenrir peeled away the bandage, and Mary winced.

"You are hurt worse than I," he said, touching her forehead. She shied away as his fingers gently brushed a gash she had not known was there. "I heal very fast; you do not."

"You’ve got half a dozen of those," she said, spotting them through the gore that caked his skin. "We need to get you taken care of."

"No…"

"Ah, for crying out loud!" Jack exclaimed, striding up to them both. "If you can walk then walk. If not, carry each other, but we’re getting you both back to the hospital, now. Capiche?"

 

*

 

_Thursday_

 

Fenrir was not just walking wounded; he was a walking wound. Nevertheless, he insisted on the walking part. The healers at the Academy swore that they had never seen anyone so badly injured, but he did not want to let it slow him down, and made his students show him all of the injured. Mary was less badly hurt, but lacked the Wolf’s nanocyte-driven constitution. Fenrir sat by her after finishing his rounds, and when he slept it was only for an hour, and in a chair by her bed.

Only in the morning, when he felt able to declare Mary’s condition to be improving, would Fenrir consent to turn in properly for a few hours. Before he did so, he ate a large meal, and when he emerged at midday, he seemed almost completely recovered. He made the rounds again, and then sat by Mary for the rest of the day, until she regained consciousness around sunset.

 

*

 

_Friday_

 

All through Thursday, Jack had been itching to talk to Fenrir, but the Wolf was engrossed in his medical duties, and in particular with caring for Mary. Finally, on Friday morning, Jack managed to catch Fenrir alone, as he was leaving the side of the sleeping student.

"Is that why you wanted to convince us?" Jack asked. "You wanted _her_ to know that what we said about you wasn’t true."

"It is," Fenrir replied, with a fond smile. "I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone quite like her. When I first spoke to her, and asked her to defend herself and her companions, she managed to side-track us both from the subject of your survival – and hers – into a long discussion about my hall."

Jack smiled. "I know a guy like that," he said. "I’ve seen him have this effect on women."

"Are you her guardian, Jack O’Neill?" Fenrir asked.

"No," Jack replied. "I’m not. And I need to talk to you about some important stuff," he added, quickly. "Without getting side-tracked into talking about Mary."

"This relates to my family, does it not?"

"It does.," Jack replied. "Your father has esc… _I_ managed to free your father from his prison, and now he wants to kill everyone. He’s gone to look for a super-mothership called _Naglfar_ , in order to do just that. The thing is," he explained. "He needs a runestone to do that; a stone he broke in three and gave to you and your siblings. We need to know where your piece of the…" Jack broke off, disconcerted, as Fenrir began to laugh, bitterly.

"‘It’s just a keepsake’," he said, in a falsetto voice. "‘Our mother’s favourite. It would mean a lot to me to have it; something to remember her by’. ‘Of course’," he continued, in a caricature of his normal, gruff tones. "‘Of course you must have it, Hel. I have no need of it’."

"Ah," Jack said.

"Damn her and her lies," Fenrir whispered, his eyes glistening with tears. "And damn me for believing. I’m sorry Jack; I would give you the stone if I still had it, but I do not."

"No. That’s okay," Jack said. "Although you may be getting a lot more company on Jelling at this rate. Since no enemy ship can come near, it might be about to get real popular."

Fenrir shrugged. "The _Naglfar_ won’t be stopped by the Surtur," he told Jack. "They defend their realm with great ferocity, but they haven’t the strength. I wish that I could help you, but I do not have what you want, and I can not leave here."

"So what happens now?" Jack asked.

"We would very much like you and your comrades to attend the funeral tonight," Fenrir said. "We will light the pyres of the fallen, and make a single fire for the trolls who were slain."

"You have a funeral for those things?" Jack asked.

Fenrir nodded. "Come with me."

He took Jack into the hall where the trolls were laid out. Each had a cudgel set on its chest, its hands clasped over the hilt. Their armour and helms had been straightened and polished.

"In Tangrind, in the time of Gerda’s youth, there was a boy named Erik. The other children called him blood-beard, because of a birthmark on his chin." So saying, he pointed to one of the trolls, which was distinguished from the others by a purplish mark on its green chin. "Erik was taken by the trolls. Some years later, a girl was taken from Jarnas; Rudveig. She had the most beautiful red hair," he added, gently caressing the lank, auburn locks of another troll, as one might with a sick child.

"Oh, God," Jack said, feeling nauseous. "Do the people ever go after their children?" He asked. "Try to bring them back?"

"Once," Fenrir replied. "None returned. You should be wary when you leave us," Fenrir added.

"Wary?"

"I do not fully understand the Chappa’ai," Fenrir said. "But I know that the Gate must send the trolls to another world, beyond this star system. Yet I also know that the Surtur live in the heavens of this system."

"How do you know that?" Jack asked. "Maybe the trolls aren’t sent by that race."

Fenrir shook his head. "Each troll has a tattoo; a flaming sword on the right shoulder. I have seen this sign in two other places. The first is on ruins in the deep forest, where ancient texts tell of the Surtur, and the destruction of the native population of this world when they tried to reach into the stars where the Surtur dwell. The same icon was also on the vessel which destroyed Sedna’s mothership. I found the crash site, and the mothership’s data core. I have no innate knowledge of Goa’uld technology," he added. "But I lived among them for centuries, and I am not a complete dunce.

"I once believed that the trolls must travel to another world and then back in order to return to their ship, but I am no longer sure. The ancient texts seem to speak of a force, that drew victims from the Chappa’ai to the Land of Fire which the Surtur inhabit. I believe that they have some means of intercepting an outgoing wormhole, drawing it to a Gate on their vessels. I know that Asgard have visited this planet – I have seen relicts of their technology – but that none seem ever to have returned to their homes; I believe this is because the Surtur take them as they leave. The same would most likely happen to any Goa’uld.

"I fear that they have taken an interest in you and your people. They tried to take Mary, even keeping her apart from the other prisoners. I fear that they wish to know who you are, and will try to take you as you return to your home."

Jack nodded, concerned by this, his soldier’s mind running through options. "I may have a way to deal with that," he said. "But we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it."

 

Jack was still thinking over what Fenrir had said as he wandered down to visit Wayne and Thomas. Wayne had a bump on the head from falling, but was otherwise unhurt; Thomas was in a far worse state. Their team-mates were visiting, so Jack made the occasion an informal briefing.

"There were a whole bunch of them coming for me," Thomas said. "I was lucky to get off so lightly. Probably wouldn’t have done if not for Mary."

"Same with me," Parker agreed. "Not about Mary, but just that they were gunning for me in particular."

"Perhaps they have orders to be watchful for strangers?" Teal’c suggested.

"Yes," Jack agreed. "Fenrir thinks that’s why they singled Mary out from the rest of the prisoners as well. Seems pretty clear then that they’ll try to redirect us on the way home." He thought for a moment. "Major," he said. "Who’s your ordnance man?"

"That would be Thomas here," Parker replied.

"And tech?"

Fowler raised her hand. "Also communications, Sir."

"Well, Sergeants," Jack said. "I’ve got a job for you."

 

"How’re you feeling?" Jack asked Mary.

"Like bursting into song," Mary admitted. "Like nothing could ever hurt me and the world is full of light and happiness."

"Uh-huh. So you’d be in love?"

"That’s not what you were talking about then?" Mary asked. "In that case, Sir, I feel fine."

"You don’t have to call me Sir," Jack told her. "Jack is fine; or Colonel O’Neill to be formal." He grinned. "So when did the love happen?"

Mary shrugged. "Somewhere between knowing I was going to die and knowing I wasn’t. Probably about when he came barrelling through that event horizon."

"That _was_ very cool," Jack admitted.

"Will it be alright to stay here?" Mary asked. "Would I be allowed…"

"There’d be complications," Jack admitted. "Such as trying to explain to the Canadian ambassador just what it as that we’d done with you."

"I think he wants to talk to you about it," Mary confided. "He’s kind of old fashioned…"

"He’s several thousand years old," Jack noted.

"…and I think he feels he should talk to my father. I said you’d fill that role as much as anyone on this planet."

"He didn’t feel I’d be a little young for that?"

"No," Mary replied, straightfaced.

Jack smiled, gently. "Anyway; we may have bigger problems on hand. Such as the Surtur."

Mary nodded. "You know the town elders want to negotiate for weapons like ours?"

"That’s usually a bad sign," Jack told her.

"Fenrir was going to speak to them about it, I think."

"To say what?"

"I don’t know," Mary admitted.

"To say I think it’s a bad idea," Fenrir said.

Jack started; he hated it when people crept up on him. "Don’t do that," he said.

"I’m sorry, Jack," Fenrir said.

"Why don’t you want your people to have weapons?" Jack asked him, as the giant settled on the other side of the bed.

Fenrir reached out and took Mary’s hand, and the two of them unselfconsciously threaded their fingers together. "I want them to be able to protect themselves," Fenrir told Jack. "But I don’t want them to become dependent on something supplied by outsiders."

Jack nodded his understanding. "Still. We could do business. We’re always looking to trade for naquadah; or access to a naquadah source."

"Your people value naquadah?" Fenrir asked.

"We do," Jack agreed.

"Ah. Good. Then perhaps I do have something to offer Mary’s father as a dowry. I was worried."

Mary smiled indulgently at the big man. "Isn’t he sweet," she said.

"Ah. Yeah," Jack agreed. "Look. We won’t leave any weapons behind, but we’d like to send engineers to look at the mines, and to negotiate for naquadah. If your people want weapons in exchange…"

"I know," Fenrir said. "Although I still think it is dangerous for your to come here. The Surtur do not take kindly to our limited presence, and they have greater power than they have yet show to us; of that I am sure." He took a zat’nik’tel from under his cloak. "Thank you for not leaving Roskva defenceless," he said.

"You’re welcome," Jack assured him. "How’s she doing?"

"Oh; right as rain," Fenrir said. "As though nothing had happened. She’s resilient."

Jack smiled. "I’m glad to hear it; she ‘s a great kid. Now, I think I know a way to get us home," he said. "And it should do for keeping our ambassadors and engineers out of Surtur hands.

 

*

 

_Sunday_

 

The Stargate boiled into life as Fowler pressed down on the centre of the DHD. Jack waited for the event horizon to settle before speaking into his radio.

"Sierra Golf Charlie, this is Sierra Golf One…I mean Five," he corrected. "Come in please."

The radio hissed static.

"SGC, this is SG-5; Colonel Jack O’Neill speaking. Do you read." When there was still no response, he turned to the two Marine Sergeants. "Everything working?" He asked.

"Uh-huh," Fowler replied, working on her laptop. "Picture coming in clear. Say hi, Thomas."

"Hi, Thomas," Sergeant Thomas said, waving into the UAV’s camera. "The Manchurian is good to go."

‘The Manchurian’ was the name Thomas had given to the scavenged UAV, with its wings stripped off and a set of makeshift wheels bolted to its body. It did not look pretty, but it should work.

"Okay," Jack said. "Send him through."

With a shove, Wayne propelled The Manchurian up the ramp, and it rolled drunkenly into the event horizon. Jack walked over to Fowler, and looked at the image on her laptop. It blurred and snapped into static as the jury-rigged probe passed through the wormhole in its component molecules, then juddered back into focus as it reintegrated.

"That’s not the Gateroom," Fowler said.

"Not our Gateroom," Jack agreed, looking at the reddish, vaguely organic walls. "And look…"

"Trolls." One of the great, shambling figures stooped towards the camera.

"Sergeant Thomas," Jack ordered.

"Transmitting universal peace and hello on all frequencies, Sir," the Sergeant confirmed, stabbing his finger down on the red button in the middle of a remote.

The picture vanished.

"Will that have done the trick?" Jack asked Thomas.

The Sergeant shrugged. "Standard det-pack, plus around three kilos of unrefined naquadah. It’s no Goa’uld Buster." The Gate closed behind him. "But it’s gonna hurt."

"Dial us home again, Fowler," Jack instructed.

"Let’s hope this one works," Parker said. "We’re all out of UAV parts."

"SGC this is SG-5. Come in please."

"SG-5, this is SGC," Hammond’s voice replied. "What is your status?"

"We’re coming home," Jack said, signalling for Parker to transmit the team’s IDC. "And boy, do we have a story to tell you." He signed off. "Hey, Mary," he called back. "Put that Harcesis down and shake a leg there."

 

*

 

SG-5 emerged from the wormhole into the SGC Gateroom. As the Iris closed behind them, Jack looked at it, thoughtfully.

"Whatcha thinking?" Mary asked him.

"That even if Fenrir talks them out of wanting weapons; we might have something better to offer."

"Welcome back Colonel," General Hammond greeted them. "I see you’ve once more failed to bring back a combat team in the condition you found it."

"That’s a funny story," Jack said.

"What’s in the box?" Hammond asked, gesturing to a large container which Parker and Teal’c were lugging between them.

"Unrefined naquadah," Teal’c said. "A Gift from Mary Lasuip’s betrothed."

General Hammond looked perturbed by this statement, but before he could say anything, he was interrupted.

"Hi, Jack."

"Hi, Dan…" Jack did a double-take. "Daniel, you’re…"

"Swathed in bandages?"

"Yeah."

"Hel stole my skin; there was a thing."

"Oh."

"Did you find Fenrir?" Daniel asked.

"Yep. Found Fenrir," Jack confirmed.

"Did you kill him and take his runestone?"

Jack coughed, awkwardly. "Not exactly. See above, re Mary’s new fiancé. You got Hel’s runestone?" He asked, rather than stop to explain.

"Yep."

"Any others?"

"No. Why?"

"Fenrir gave his to Hel. She said it had sentimental value."

"Damn!" Daniel swore. "Probably not the best time to tell you that we lost Hel’s again."

"Damn!" Jack agreed. "Any word from Sam yet?"

"No," Daniel replied. "We just need to hope that she can get Jormungandr’s stone, or it’s all over. Either way, there goes any chance of trading one of the stones for Annie. It’s going to be pretty pointless buying her out, just to get killed when the planet goes boom."

"I am certain that Major Carter will be successful," Teal’c said.

"And we’ll get Annie back," Jack promised Daniel. "Whatever happens."

"He’s got more hostages as well," Daniel said. "But we’ll tell you about that in debriefing."

Jack sighed. "We’ll deal," he promised. "We really will. But since we can’t do much until Sam gets back, I need to take a shower, then discuss some things with the General like mineral surveys, naquadah treaties and dowries. Then you can tell us what you’ve been up to, and we’ll see where we can go from there."

"Dowries," Daniel said, in amazement. "How is it I get skinned alive, and you _still_ have weirder stories than me?"

_[Æsirhættir](http://www.prophet.phlegethon.org/Fiction/Aesirhaettir/index.htm)    [SG-1 Fiction](http://www.prophet.phlegethon.org/Fiction/SG1.htm)    [Fiction Catalogue](http://www.prophet.phlegethon.org/Fiction/index.htm)    [The World Serpent](http://www.prophet.phlegethon.org/Fiction/Aesirhaettir/tws.htm)_

 

**Author's Note:**

> The Western settlement of the Greenland colony almost certainly died out of starvation with the onset of the little Ice Age. Given greater contact with the Inuit, they might have learned enough of their skills to survive – the Vikings were pretty good at that – but they didn’t, so they all went home to the Eastern settlement or just died.
> 
> A note on weapons: SG-5’s weapons are the Heckler & Koch PSG1 anti-sniper rifle, a semi-automatic rifle, which is supposed to be really good, but which was picked mostly for having ‘SG1’ in its name; the M249 SAW (Squad Automatic Weapon), a light machine gun manufactured by Belgium’s Fabrique Nationale, similar if not identical to the weapon used by Kawalsky when covering the Gate in Children of the Gods; and the M79 grenade launcher, the shotgun-style weapon used by Arnie in Terminator 2. As since Season 4, the standard weapon of the SGC’s offworld teams is the FN P90 PDW (Personal Defence Weapon).


End file.
